


Tribulations

by itsjester (Laninkey), PaperCities



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Absent Parents, Age Difference, Awkward Tension, Bribery, Businessmen, Choking, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hate to Love, High school Carl, Jealous Negan (Walking Dead), M/M, Negan wants Carl's ass, Power Play, Prostitution, Protective Rick, Rags to Riches, Seduction, Self-Harm, Sexual Violence, Slow Burn, Sugar Daddy, Underage Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension, feisty Carl, small town vibes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-03-03 19:39:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13348140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laninkey/pseuds/itsjester, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperCities/pseuds/PaperCities
Summary: Seventeen year old Carl was a good boy, a good student, and great son as far as anyone was concerned. But behind closed doors, as Rick’s once powerful company begins to decline, Carl is forced to trade favors with powerful men to keep his family’s business secure. It doesn’t take long before rumors of his sexual favors reach the interested ears of an extremely dangerous and capricious man.





	1. Sweet and Sour, Like a Candied Apple

**Author's Note:**

> This a gift to the lovely PaperCities that has supported me through the process of creating this story. I hope you enjoy this new mafia-vibe and small town aesthetic fanfic about two people who didn't realize they needed each other until they couldn't live without the other. This is our first Walking Dead fic so I hope you guys can give some feedback!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl and Negan meet, a look into his depressive teenage days, and the second 'fated' meeting.  
> :^)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings! 
> 
> Please look at the tags. This story will be kinda dark with definitely rape and drug use and self harm somewhere in the plot. If there's a particularly messed up thing in a chapter, I'll warn y'all when we get there.
> 
> I do not promote what any of the characters do; they act that way because of my own twist to them and the environment of the story. I do not condone underage sex and I do not want my readers to think that any of what they do is okay, in anyway- because it is NOT!!!
> 
> Self harm is in almost every chapter, proceed with caution!

“If we never experience the chill of a dark winter, it is very unlikely that we will ever cherish the warmth of a bright summer’s day...In order to complete our amazing life journey successfully, it is vital that we turn each and every dark tear into a pearl of wisdom, and find the blessing in every curse.”  
-Anthon St. Maarten, _Divine Living: The Essential Guide To Your True Destiny_

 

* * *

 

“Dad, I’m off!” Carl calls into the dark hallway. He hears an incoherent answer from the far bedroom. Sighing, he walks out of the house, hearing the automatic lock click into place behind him.

When Rick had first gotten into the business, he was remarkably sharp and vigilant. Now, after a decade of balancing his work and his role as a husband and father, he lost most of his youth; his morals, also, had soften and his outlook had completely changed. His dedication, his insensitivity, to stay on top of his work and sacrifice all his time had cost him his marriage. His promotion to the managing director had been the last straw for Lori and she had left with their newborn baby.

The money was good and they were able to afford the luxuries that normal people weren’t able to have, but Carl never thought it was worth it. His father had done everything to keep the family together, but now all he wanted was for his dad to settle down. He wanted to spend more time with him like before, so he was content with waiting for his father to heal. For now.

All the money in the world wasn’t worth losing his father for. And Carl was _definitely_ going to be there when his father needed him.

He takes the taxi to school that morning; Rick had dismissed the driver from his duties the night before. He was always careful at school, trying as hard as he could to fit in. Or at least he used to. School wasn’t a very pleasant place for him; the _kids_ weren’t very pleasant to him. He got good grades because he didn’t want his parents to worry or pay too much attention to him.

Instead of shopping at designer stores like his peers, he prefered thrift stores and friendly private businesses. People judged his raggy and baggy clothes, but he liked the way they fit. They judged the way he stuttered in the limelight and called him weird behind his back. He avoided conversations if he could help it and when people began to realize they weren’t going to get much out of him, they stopped approaching him.

But Carl couldn’t give a damn about they way they acted around him. It didn’t feel as bad as it did before. By now he accepted the fact that he was an outcast, a lone fish in the middle of a moving mass of sea creatures.

The most troublesome factor in his life was his actual status in the world. As the son of one of the richest men in America and he was scared that would be the strongest hindrance to a normal life than anything else. At school, in public, anywhere without his family and friends, he hid and lied about his family situation, anything to get out of a sticky situation.

He didn’t tell anyone about his father’s declining business. Or the fact that he was always sleeping in class because company galas lasted until around two in the morning. Or that he was unable to finish homework because he was constantly being called to his father’s office to get an insider look on how things functioned. Or that he was terrified of business because of all the deception and blackmailing and bribery that dictated the field.

He was afraid that he’d be pushed even further into the outcasts’ abyss. For now he is content with the illusion of a normal life.

A block away from the school, Carl gets off the car and proceeds to walk the rest of the way. His head was in the clouds imagining the way things could have been if his mom hadn’t left. He might have played with Judith before school and actually have had a fresh homemade breakfast from Lori.

Stepping into the school, he makes sure to keep his head down, but knowing his luck, he’s  immediately targeted by the group of football jocks. They hoot at him, tossing scraps of paper at him, forcing him to duck to avoid confrontation. When one of them “accidentally” shoves him a little too hard, Carl topples to the ground.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” One of them calls.

Carl gives them his nastiest glare. Turning around, he focuses on the so-called leader of the group, the captain of the football team: a blond haired, blue eyed boy who’s staring hungrily at him.

“What’s wrong, Grimes? Can’t get up?” He sneers, laughing senselessly with the other boys.

Pushing past them furiously, Carl speeds to the classroom without another word. Lord knows what he’d spew with his mouth if he let himself.

Once inside and out of immediate danger, he breathes heavily and bites down hard onto his knuckles to repress his anger. He doesn’t stop until the urge, to violently scratch up the boy’s face and punch until he feels the limp body body beneath him, diminishes. When he looks down, he realizes that the skin around his middle knuckle had split open cleanly.

Carl curses, sucking up the blood to get rid of any evidence of his rage.

He is once again composed when the day starts. He sits by the window, watching the birds fly by and the counting the red lights. The flourishing tree outside his homeroom waves back at him gently in the wind. It doesn’t take long before Carl dozes off.

After school, he ditches the bus and runs the few miles to the small park by a small corner market. He deposits his backpack in the bushes by the side of a bench far away from the main hangout zone and rushes back out into the street with only his phone and wallet. He takes his time walking to the downtown area, stopping by a music store to listen to some old vinyls.

He buys himself a lavish lunch, as he had barely eaten during school hours, choosing to find solitude in the library. Devouring his meal hungrily, he only pauses after he had stuffed half the burger and fries into his mouth. Sitting in a private booth facing the fading sun, he feels somewhat content. He doesn’t worry about homework or his father. Rick always came home late, and he could always finish his homework over the weekend.

Late summer days were his favorite.

He follows the crowds of people across another street and wanders into the open courtyards in the middle of the downtown area. He roams through flower beds and seeks comfort in the conformity of the waves of people.

Eventually, he realizes how late it’s gotten and decides that he should head home.

He takes the long way back; night time always made him bold.

When he turns the corner to his street, he notices that the house was still dark. It irked him a bit, seeing that his father wasn’t home yet, because he had gotten his hopes up again only to be faced with disappointment once again. He swallows thickly.

He dresses for the event first, picking out an older suit instead of his newly tailored one from the previous week. He waits for his dad to return, pacing back and forth along the polished hallways. It was getting _awfully_ late. He didn’t want to have to spend any longer in the empty house.

After another anxious twenty minutes, Carl changes his outfit again, this time into a dark turtleneck and plaid pants. It was his favorite ensemble when he was younger when his mother and father were still together. Just as he was deciding whether to call into his dad’s office, the front door cracks open.

“Dad?!” he calls out, his anxiousness nearly bursting in his chest.

“Yeah, Carl,” comes the tired reply. “You ready?”

Hopping down the stairs two at a time, the boy rushes to his father, relief filtering through him.

“You look good, son,” Rick says, smiling, despite his fatigue. Carl hesitantly smiles back.

“Do we really have to go? You look beat, dad.” He longs to push the hair from his dad’s face, but he hasn’t been so familiar with Rick in so long. Instead, he steps into his shoes and leads the way to the garage.

The drive to the company gala is uncomfortably silent. Clearing his throat, Rick asks, “How was school today, Carl?”

“Fine,” came the automatic response, but with the clear indication from Rick’s nod to continue, Carl adds, “I hung out with a few friends after school today.”

Rick lightens up a bit at this.

“Good. That’s...real good,” he nods. “I was worried that...the company... _this_ was holding you back from some things that teenagers usually get up to.”

The thought of his classmates suddenly sent a wave of panic through him. The idea of Rick finding out about everything at school scared him. “Dad, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not a kid anymore,” he blurts out, immediately ashamed of his lie.

Rick’s whole frame faltered. “I know, I know. I just want you to feel comfortable telling me things about you...like before.”

Carl burrows deeper into his seat, thinking back to the easier days with Lori and their old house. He had lost all of his friends around the time his mother’s affair had come to light. His baby sister was also taken away from him.

“Things can never go back to the way they were before,” he says quietly.

At this, Rick shakes his head sadly. “I’m sorry, Carl.”

Carl knew they were both thinking about Lori. Rick had punished himself severely after he discovered that she had cheated on him. There was another man that she had turned to for comfort when things got tough with Rick’s work. Instead of helping him to endure the pain, Lori slipped into the bed of a business rival, Shane, and neglected her family. For that Carl hated her. There was even suspicion that Judith, his baby sister, wasn’t actually Rick’s.

He believed it, but his vulnerable and kind father had not pushed for a DNA test. He had accused Rick of being a coward, angry and jealous of his dad’s kindness but had immediately regretted it. Carl wasn’t like him; he would never be capable of the same forgiveness and compassion as Rick. He was just as cruel, if not more, as Lori. He was capable of destruction not of empathy.

 

XXXXX

 

He entertains the vipers, drinks the scorching alcohol, and avoids his father like a plague. He hopes he won’t encounter Shane through the entirety of the night. It seemed that luck was on his side tonight, because said man didn’t show. It was only a tiny reassurance but one that got him through the night without ending up over a toilet.

Part way through his conversation with an amorous politician, a hush falls over the room. Carl looks up with curious eyes and sees that some man had walked in and grabbed everyone’s attention. Huffing quietly, he turns to the refreshment bar.

It’s almost midnight when Carl is finally able to escape the talons of the businessmen and walk out into the cool night. He stands on the wide balcony, appreciating the glow of city lights and the hanging plants that resemble some ancient Roman hanging garden. Leaning his head down, he presses his flushed cheeks onto the cold marble.

The summer’s headiness lingers in the air, though making way for the autumn’s chill. Carl revels in the open air, not yet ready to head back inside to face the groping hands and guarded smiles. He’d much rather go home, spend some time with Judy, maybe even finish homework for once; lord knows he used to be a good student.

Just as he was about to go back in, someone steps out, shutting the balcony doors with a click. Carl frowns. Turning, he comes face to face with Philip Blake. He was the mastermind behind the Woodbury Corporations, a previously leading banking business.

Carl had a fling with him a while ago when the firm was still influential. He had ditched him when it began to degenerate, but it was like that for all of his men.

When his father’s influence began to decline, Carl couldn’t wait any longer. He made his first deal last year and the compromises began from there. The easiest and quickest way, he discovered, was to lay down a clean arrangement. He would spend time and maybe offer them a taste to get them investing and buying out his father’s deals. It was simple and entertaining money. There was no use in circling around exactly what he wanted and what his investors wanted.

“Mr. Blake,” Carl said, feigning innocence.

“Carl,” came the blunt reply.

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Carl felt annoyance bubbling inside. Why was he being so informal in such a public setting. He decided to quit his act. “What do you want?”

Philip blinked back surprise, regaining his composure instantly. “I’ve been thinking of you.”

“It was a one time deal,” he says sighing, already expecting the statement. “I made that extremely clear from the beginning. I got what I wanted and you got me. _For one time_. After that you don’t look at me, you don’t talk to me, and you go back to Mrs. Blake like nothing ever happened.”

“I can’t pretend anymore. I _want_ you.” It was pathetic and Carl pushed past him.

He was shoved back the way he came from by a pair of heavy hands. “I always get what I want,” Philip said, his expression of congenitally gone. He jerked Carl towards him, hands groping.

This was another reason Carl had been so eager to leave this man. Philip was an incredibly violent man. Though he has a history of recorded benevolence, Carl had personal experience of his brutality.

He was rough from the beginning. When he had gripped Carl, his fingers would leave marks on his skin. Kissing him was like kissing a line of spikes; the brunette lips were often left bloody and raw and his tongue was sucked so hard, it felt almost about to be pulled out. When they had sex, Carl had torn. But he wasn’t afraid of him. The thought of his father ruined frightened him more.

Carl slammed his hand against the other man’s face, using all his anger to strengthen his blow. Philip staggered and fell against the railing. “Don’t touch me,” the boy hissed, eyes hard.

“You're making all the wrong decisions today, Carl.”

“No one likes a sore loser, Mr. Blake,” Carl snarled before briskly walking away. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears, proud yet a bit intimidated by the lingering threat.

From the alcove of another higher balcony, there came a short laugh.

“I’ve got my fingers crossed for a little freaky deaky!”

 

XXXXX

 

On Wednesday he walks into class, bored and dazed. Wednesdays were late start days; Carl’s classes began at nine so he was called to his dad’s office where he had to endure through a fews hours worth of conference. He was tired out of his mind.

He had his head on the table during third period, doing his best to filter out the sound of his teacher’s droning when the door suddenly bursts open. He curiously looks over and is surprised by the newcomer. He sees the school counselor and the vice-principal standing timidly by the door.

Swaggering in proudly, flanked by two men, was an extremely tall man with a clean cut beard and a dark grey three piece suit. He stood and surveyed the classroom like he owned the place. The moment his eyes landed on Carl, a shit-eating grin spread on his face. Two dimples dipped into his cheeks, making him seem almost comical, but Carl thought his smile was wolfish, his eyes predatorial.

“ _There’s my boy!_ ”

Carl flinches as the loud and hearty voice reaches his ears. Before he could comprehend the situation, the stranger was in front of him, arms raised as if he were expecting a hug. Making no move, the boy shoots a dead look at the man. There was no way in hell that Carl would ever voluntarily make acquaintance with a dangerous man like him.

“Aww c’mon! You don’t recognize me?” The man asks, his lips drooping to form an absurd frown. “Well, I was thinking of you all through the fucking weekend. You, with your sexy-ass body and _perky_ ass. You looked _good_ the other night in that slinky little outfit.”

Blanching at his words, Carl nearly panics. What the hell was this person talking about? How in the world did he know about his nights out? Was he someone from work? The idea that his long held secrecy could be ripped apart at any time was killing him. “Who the hell are you?” he whispers, glancing around at the awestruck faces around him.

Enid, Carl’s previous crush, was glaring at the man with an open frown. Ron, his old friend, was staring at him suspiciously.

A look of surprise replaced the smile. “...You really don’t know, huh? Well, _shit_ , that ruins my whole entrance. I sure know a lot ‘bout you, baby. About your daddy, your promising interest in the family business, and your investment in-ah- _deals_ so to speak.”

“Who the _hell_ are you?” Carl asks again, this time with anger. The same panic he felt when his father had questioned him about school washed through him like a wave.

“Woah, woah, _woah_ . Do _not_ use that tone of voice with me, kid,” tsks the stranger. “I’m the Negan your daddy’s probably pissing his pants about.”

Negan. The name set off a memory in him. Something his dad had mentioned about a rival in the industry, a young entrepreneur that was swallowing big companies in record time. Carl already had a negative bias towards him, like the others who competed with his father.

Next to him, Carl’s trembling home room teacher rises from her seat. She makes a move to get between the stranger and the boy, but Negan cuts her off with the wag of a finger. “Uh uh, baby. You stop right there, turn around, and take your sweet pussy back into that chair, okay?” 

She gives a frantic glance over at the principle who is shaking his head. Carl sees the steel set in her jaw and opens his mouth to warn her. But she speaks first, “I don’t know who you are and what you’re here for, but Carl is obviously not-“

She is cut off but Negan’s short snap. “Shut up, sweetheart.” He glares her down with sharp eyes, though his smile was ever present. It was more shark-like now, full and clipped. Carl felt his heart sink at her useless attempt. “I thought I mentioned I was here for the kid! Does it have anything to do with you? I don’t fucking think so. So get your ass on the goddamn chair and stay the fuck down, understand cupcake?” 

He then turns back to the brunette, smile like a tattoo on his lips. 

“Did that name trigger anything in you, baby?”

“No. Don’t call me that.”

Negan laughs. “Why so cold, sweetheart?”

“What do you want?”

“Right to the point, ok.” he snapped, the sound making Carl jump slightly in his chair. “I wanna make a deal with you.”

“Why would I make a deal with _you_?”

Negan towers over him, eyebrows wiggling.

“I saw what you did the other night with that nasty ass excuse of a man. And I liked your radass, badass, _sexy-ass_ attitude okay? It turned me on and I do not want to leave my balls blue when I can get some!”

There was a snicker of disbelief from somewhere behind him. Carl felt his face turn red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he chokes out, certain that the ‘nasty ass excuse of a man’ was Philip Blake.

“I like your spunk!”

“Quit bullshitting,” Carl spits, standing up like he wasn’t daunted.

“Honestly, I have never met anyone like you. Living a double life, alternating between the good student and the cheeky faunlet when it gets dark. I fucking _love_ it!” Carl glared up at him.

“What’s your damn point?”

“Well, kid. What I’m trying to point out is that we both have a role in this. You’re the upstanding son trying to help out his dear old dad’s business and I’m acting as the good samaritan who’s about to give you the deal of a lifetime!”

“What are you talking about?” Carl asked confused and growing angry.

“Look, kid,” Negan says. “You want the deal and I want you. You give me what I want and I’ll give you what you want. _Quid pro quo_ , baby. Even steven.”

At Carl’s skeptical look, the man continues. “I’m a pretty generous guy. So I’m offering a quarter of my earnings,” he finished with a shimmy of hands.

Now Negan had piqued Carl's interest.

“A quarter of you earnings?” Carl monotoned.

“A quarter of my earnings is enough to ensure that you and dear old daddy will never have to work a day in your snug life again. So long as the deal continues. This ain’t some one time deal like the other johns.”

The man had obviously spent time on his life, digging into his deals and situation. The thought of him knowing the private sides of his life scared him. He couldn’t lie anymore, especially in the light of a deal that could really help to benefit his father’s condition. “You want me to just take your word for it?” Carl smirked. “How do I know if you’ll keep your side of the bargain?”

“Well, it’ll depend on your, say, _performance_ in things.” Negan raises an eyebrow and smiles widely. It was intended to scare him, Carl knew, but he remained impassive. He squares up to the man, stepping so close, their chests were almost brushing.

“How about _fuck you_?”

A hint of anger sparked in Negan’s dark eyes, and Carl resisted the urge to lick his dry lips. This man was dangerous. There was only so much bite he could manage before the flames licked up to meet him and then there would be no way to back out.

“I ain’t gonna lie, you scare the shit outta me!” Negan exclaimed loudly. “Isn’t he impressive?” he asked the class, gesturing at the boy. “I am truly invested in you, kid! How can I prove that, huh? What the fuck do you want?”

Carl ignores the heat on his cheeks and ears. “I don’t think you can convince me so just drop it.”

“Oh, you are wrong on that! I know so much about you baby, I can even recall some ‘Paul Rovia.’”

Carl never knew believed that hearts could drop, but in that moment his heart did. Cold tinges spread from his fingers up his arms. He couldn’t even speak.

“Guessing from your reaction, you know _exactly_ who the fuck I’m talking about.”

“Leave him alone please,” Carl breathes, his voice hitching an octave higher in desperation.

“Now you’re being polite. We almost had to wash your mouth out with soap, didn’t we Dwight?” Negan grins, tapping one of his men on the chest with a heavy hand.

“You really seemed to like that guy. Wasn’t he your teacher or something? Ain’t that _disgusting_?”

“Stop. _Please_.” Carl was begging, but he couldn’t care. He didn’t want the man to taint someone with cruel words when he probably didn’t even understand the situation. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“I think I got it alright,” Negan’s voice was cold. “You got yourself some teacher dick when you were still growing hair. Couldn’t that land him in jail?” Carl was crying now. He hadn’t even realized it.

“You don’t know shit,” he grits his teeth, furious at himself for crying and furious with Negan.

Immediately the cold voice softened. “Oh, damn. Look...holy shit, kid. I’m sorry. It’s easy to forget you’re just a kid. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or anything.” He sighs, eyebrows creased up in concern. “I was just screwing around-”

“Just forget it.”

Negan seemed to want to say something else but another man knocks on the classroom door and interrupts him. “Sir, we need to move your car.”

“Goddamn! Forget it; we’re leaving soon anyways.” Negan bends down and falls on one knee in front of the boy. “Look, kid. I’m fucking serious about the deal. And I know you need it. I’m not going to just quit it.”

“No deal,” Carl whispers, stubbornly, keeping his eyes down.

Negan sighed again, this time with disappointment. “...then I’ll see you later.” He leaves and no one speaks.

Just as the teacher was about to say something, Carl snatches up his backpack and scrambles out of the room. He pushes past his worried counselor and brushes his principal’s hand away and runs and runs without direction, past the gates and past his house. He doesn’t stop until the urge to vomit takes over. He spews his breakfast into the dry plants by the side of a road. Using his nails, he claws violently at his skin, ripping flesh and feeling the tingles on his arms. And then he continues to walk slowly.

When it got dark, Carl didn’t even think to go home. How could he go to school after that?

He was mortified, knowing that news travelled extremely fast in such a small town. He shouldn’t have admitted to the accusations so easily. He should feigned innocence. Now he ruined everything. The best thing to do now was hide the day’s events from his dad.

“What the fuck did you do, Carl?” he asks himself.

How did Negan even know about Paul anyways. God, Paul. It felt like so long ago when he met him.

He pulls up his contacts and dials Tara’s number.

“Hello, Carl?”

“Hey, Tara, I need you to give me a run down of this guy.”

He gets home sometime after eleven.

No car in the driveway- like usual.

 

XXXXX

 

He skips school the next day and day after that and the week after that. He calls in sick for his job at the local corner store. Rick doesn’t notice, not because he was neglecting his son, but because he was just too occupied. Phone calls from the school were directed to the corporation’s front desk where it was picked up by Tara. She was too lenient to scold Carl and was too gentle to force him to go.

They agreed years ago that all school matters were to be kept away from his dad. He pays her for her services with a bag of lifesavers from the convenience store he worked at every Wednesday and Saturday.

Carl did a lot of walking the next week. He liked to travel from his house to a more secluded area of the town where the trees shot to the sky. There he could hide in his thoughts, days slipping away quickly as he daydreamed.

On slower evenings, he would slip his feet into a pond deep in the woods. The meadow that it rested on had a perfect view of the setting sun and on most days, he would stay until the sky turned pink. Quiet days were really the best; he was always looking forward to them.

It was no different the next thursday when he orders a pizza.

“That’ll be 12.99,” the pizza boy says with a large grin on his face. Carl fishes out his wallet and shoves another five dollar bill in the stack he hands over. All the while, making sure his long sleeved shirt covered his scars. He fumbles under the kind gaze, nearly dropping the box when it is passed over.

Ignoring the awkward flounder, the guy tips his familiar red and orange hat; Carl had grown used to seeing him. “Rad hair, dude,” the pizza boy says before walking back to the old, beaten up Toyota Camry. Carl liked him.

When he finishes his second slice, his phone dings. Looking down at the bright screen, he sees a text.

_Carl, are you okay?_

It was from Enid. He glances at the clock and sees it is almost fourth period. She was texting him in class.

He throws it at the pillows and ignores it as it slides down into a crack.

The weather today was exceptionally pretty and clean. His feet take him automatically out the door and onto the street.

He walks for a while, relishing in the warm August sun. Nature had a healing effect on him. It was better for him than any person and mother nature seemed to reciprocate his feelings because animals seemed to always find him and the wind blew whenever he needed it; the soothing breeze had long been a source of relief.

The boy walks around aimlessly for another block or so. He hadn’t realized he was nearing a crossroad when suddenly the sound of tires screeching filled his ears.

Carl twisted his body in order to avoid impact, but he lost his balance and skidded to the ground. Pain shoots up his legs. He is sure his skin was scraped raw and he didn’t want to look down because he knew there would be blood.  

“Shit!”

The door to the driver’s seat bangs open. Blinking up at the sun, the boy finds himself slumped in front Negan.

“Oh my god!” Carl rolls his eyes. Anyone else would have been fine. Just not him.

“Damn! Carl?”

The boy snarls, still filled with anger at the remembrance of their previous conversation. “How dare you run into me?”

“How dare you run into the street without fucking lookin’ around first?”

Huffing, Carl turns to examine his leg. With the initial anger of seeing the man fading, Carl begins to feel pain stab down his leg. Flinching at the sight of blood, Carl blanches. Tsking, Negan peels off his flannel, squats down, and presses his shirt to the long scratch. He was wearing a black tee underneath.

Carl attempts to resist, jerking his limb away, only to gasp out from the pain. Negan is smiling with tongue between teeth. His hands are stained red by the blood and the boy feels a twinge of guilt. Before he could protest, Negan gets up.

“Get in the truck,” the man says.

“No way,” Carl blurts out.

“Get in the truck or I’ll run you over.”

As Negan drove, Carl fidgeted uncomfortably, holding the shirt tight against his leg. The pain had reduced to a light throbbing.

“You gonna tell me where you’re going, kid?”

“Kiss my ass!”

Negan smirked. “You’ll let me?”

“You are such a creep,” Carl huffed, giving up.

After a minute he lets curiosity get better of him. “Where are you taking me?”

“To the park.”

“Why?”

“To get ice cream.”

“I don’t want it!” Carl was acting like a kid, but he couldn’t care. The faster he got away from this man, the better. The thought of him hobbling down the street brought up a flush to his cheeks. His neck felt hot and the car was suddenly stifling. _It’s not like he can kidnap you_ , the boy thinks. He shakes that thought away.

“I want it,” was the curt reply.

Humming with irritation, the brunette lets out a growl and slides down the chair. Negan was smirking like a madman. They pull into the parking lot of the park and step out of the car. Carl hobbles out and Negan rushes over to him, but the boy pushes him away roughly.

He finds a spot on a shaded bench beneath a tree. Negan tells him to stay put and hops over to some ice cream vendor.

Carl sits with his face down, berating himself for his stupidity. Just as he was considering running away, a soft serve vanilla ice cream was thrust under his chin.

“One ice cream for a sulking kid.”

“Screw you,” Carl says, but quickly shoves the dessert into his mouth. He gets it all over his lips and savors the cool pulse down his throat. He barely registers the soft chuckling.

When he opens his eyes, Negan was gesturing at his chin with dabbing motions.

Embarrassed, Carl snatches a hand full of napkins and wipes away the mess.

“Sorry about your leg, kid.”

“Whatever. Wasn’t really your fault anyways.” Carl hesitantly mutters.

They eat in silence. Negan was strangely quiet. The boy wonders if the way he had acted was just for show when there was an audience. He knew men like that, who had one act in public and another for private. Maybe Negan saved his intimate act for home.

He wondered what they looked like to others. A small boy with a giant scratch, clutching a soaked flannel and a much older man with bloody hands and a dirty shirt. He started laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. They looked like they crawled out of some alternative apocalypse world.

If anyone told him a week ago he’d be sitting and eating next to a powerful, shady man, he would have told them to fuck off.

“This is so fucked up.”

Negan was laughing with him to. “It is, ain’t it?”

They gradually stop their hysteric fit and the man perks up. “Are you in trouble with your teachers? Did I get you in trouble the other day?” Carl snorts.

“They probably pissed their pants when you told my teacher to shut up. I don’t think they’ll even mention you again.” 

“Typical,” Negan sighs. “Who gives two shits about high school anyways? They’ll get the fuck over it.” The boy couldn’t help but agree. He knows that there might be some attention on him for a while, but he was already the odd man out, right? What harm could a little more dirt on him do? 

“What am I even doing here with you?” he asked no one in particular.

“The deal is still on the table, baby. I still want you to take it.”

Carl stopped smiling. “I don’t have a choice do I?”

Negan shakes his head. “I can’t wait on you forever, baby. Sooner or later I’ll lose my patience and you’ll hate me for what I’m gonna do to you.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I know you’re still mad at me, but I not the kind of man who would force you to...do shit you don’t want,” his eyes were not unkind. Carl wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I don’t even know you,” he whispers, lying.

“I want you to.”

The drive back was quiet. Both thinking of their uncertain future. Carl didn’t want to take the deal and Negan didn’t push him again.

 

XXXXX

 

“Dad?” Carl asked when they were finally alone. It was a clear friday night. The boy and his father were attending a gala event hosted by one of their clients.

“What is it, boy?” Rick put his drink down.

The brunette knows he should ask about Negan and his connection to the man, but instead he says, “How’s work?”

“Well ya know. Same old, same old. Things have been rocking lately, but I’m sure stuff’ll smooth out soon.”

“Dad, you don’t have to push yourself so hard, okay?”

“What’s this?” his father scrutinizes the boy’s face with a pleased face. “Worried about your old man?” When Carl laughs, Rick reaches up to ruffle his hair like he did when Carl was just a boy. He couldn’t bring himself to ask in a moment like this.

 

XXXXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fluffiness won't last. (○｀ε´○)／＼(○｀ε´○)


	2. Too Soon, Too Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last of the fated meetings and Carl's date with another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals are finally over!!! Celebration time! Stars! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ This chapter is a bit shorter because I tried to write it as fast as I could to get a new update up!  
> I was so overwhelmed by the lovely comments! Aahhhhh （ﾉ｡≧◇≦）ﾉ  
> Thanks for the support! I love to read your thoughts so leave a comment! I will try to reply as soon as possible!

 

 

> “Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together?  
>  Some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences.” -Emery Allen

 

* * *

 

 

On Saturday, he goes into the office with Rick.

His father is immediately called into conference by the secretary, Tara, who shoots him an apologetic smile. He declines his dad’s invitation to join them and strolls around the building, checking off the mental-list he had in his head.

He keeps an eye on the men he found suspicious and offers nods to the loyal members. Rick wasn’t cruel enough to pick out people that could possibly be a detriment or see through those that offered fake smiles. He was also too busy to notice.

That was how he occupied his time and he would have had a nice day if he hadn’t noticed Spencer, one of the higher ups, striding quickly towards him.

“Carl. In my office, _now_.” His tone had no room for argument.

Carl didn’t like his slimy ass one bit, but he had to listen to him. While Spencer was a nasty sycophant, always ready to kiss the ass of anyone that was in a position of leadership, he was always on his best behavior whenever Rick was around. His “flawless” performance earned him a leading spot in the company, but Carl didn’t trust him at all. However, Rick had made it clear that Carl was to listen to Spencer since he couldn’t always be there to reprimand or guide his son.

“What do you want?” he asks harshly the moment he steps in.

Spencer walks slowly to his desk with a swagger that was never apparent when his father was around. Carl watched him with disgust. “I heard that a _particular_ executive went to see you at school the other day.”

“So?” the boy asks with a cynical glare. Spencer smirks.

“I want you to take the deal.”

Carl gawks at him.

“Why the hell would I? Who the hell are _you_ to tell me what to do?” he spits, recovering from the initial shock, angry now. He should have expected such a demand from the man.

“Listen to me, _boy_. This is the best chance we have to get some leverage over him! His Sanctuary Enterprises have amassed a huge fortune and it could be beneficial to our company!”

“You don’t understand! People disappear under him!” Carl blurts, remembering what Tara had dug out. That night, she had given him a rundown of Negan’s life and his rise to the top.

“What?”

“He’s not the only one looking into people. I’ve been doing some digging on him too. Men that don’t give him a good deal- they vanish after meeting with him and because no one has been able to locate their bodies, there are no leads to... _anyone_. Isn’t that even a little suspicious?”

“You’re basing this off very _very_ loose facts, Carl. I can’t agree with you. And besides, you don’t have to worry about becoming a body on the side of a highway. Negan’s taken plenty of women on his arm before and, from what I’ve heard, he treats his darlings like diamonds.”

“Oh _c’mon_!” Carl is practically shaking with adrenaline, ready to fight with Spencer. “Darlings my ass! You can’t say you forgot about the whole scandal with his ex-wife. Louisa or Lucia or something like that. Something happened between that other entrepreneur and her and next thing you know, they’re both gone!” Carl slammed his hand on the table in a gesture of finality.

But the man was still shaking his head, looking at Carl with disappointed eyes, like he was regarding a child. “Loose facts, Carl. The more famous he gets, the more dirt people try to put on him. You can’t tie him with any of that.”

“God, you never listen!”

Spencer was beginning to grow annoyed with him. “We’re talking about a _quarter_ of his earnings. Do you even know how much his company’s worth? Do you even know how much _he’s_ worth?”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s not worth shit. I would do anything for my dad- more than anything **you** would do- but Negan is the absolute last resort!”

“Let me remind you: your dad’s business is on the line.”

Guilt and dread threaten to choke him. His fingers unknowingly tracing the ripped skin from his bite the previous week. His leg was suddenly throbbing.

“I don’t need you to fucking remind me.”

“Another thing,” Spencer says as Carl reaches the door. “No more skipping school.” _Or your Rick will find out,_ is silently conveyed. Carl rolls his eyes. He slams the door on his way out, hoping to piss Spencer off just a bit more.

Trudging through the empty halls, his mind wanders back to Negan’s inappropriate visit. He knew he couldn’t hide from school forever.

He steels himself on Monday, at the school gates.

When he steps in, some kids ignore him like they usually did, but the rest of them fall silent as he passes by. Carl avoids their stares, letting his long hair fall over his eyes. News seemed to have spread fast in such a small school; there was no way that the kids in his classroom kept quiet about what had happened. Teens could gossip about the most nonsensical things.

He swallows thickly. Carl is really only sure about one thing: he really didn’t want to be one of those topics.

The first hoot came from those repulsive jocks. They become the only ones who harass him about it later on.

“Where’s your sugar daddy, Grimes?” one of them calls out.

”How much does he pay for you to call him daddy?”

He picks up his pace, and by the time he was on the second floor, he was practically running. He wanted to run away, far from this place, but he had to endure the humiliation. Pinching at his hands, he wills himself to not cry- because that would be truly pathetic. He hated the man he had become. Yesterday he changed out of his fine clothing and switched them for his baggy, ratty school outfit, burying his comfort five feet underneath.

When had his life gotten so complicated?

After lunch, and another hour of locking himself in the library, Carl makes his way to the locker room. So far the teachers haven’t mentioned anything. Negan was right again. Either they did forget about it or they were really too scared to say anything. Maybe they’d all been debriefed about it and were keeping their distance. During third period, Enid had seemed like she wanted to approach him, but she was pulled away by Ron. Carl decides he hates Ron. 

He absolutely dreaded his sixth period physical education. Inside the changing room, the boys body shamed him and jeered at his -too- pale skin. His hand-eye coordination was always off and he never enjoyed any kind of physical activity. Unless fighting was in the category.

Hoping he could change early and head out without any disturbances, Carl was disappointed when he was met with the stretched out legs of the football captain. “Hey, princess,” the kid smiles, displaying his blinding white teeth.

The brunette walks right past him to his own locker, clenching his jaw when the other boy tramps up behind him. “Not even a little greeting for me?”

“What do you want?” Carl asked. A small voice in his head reminding him that he had been asking the question far too many times lately.

“Is it true that some fat cat came to see you? _At school?_ ”

“So what?” he challenges, suddenly annoyed at the mention of Negan.

“I always thought you were some shabby hobo, but are you actually _rich_ or something?” Carl doesn’t reply, but the topic was making him increasingly uncomfortable. He tries to edge away, but the jock inches closer and presses both hands against the walls on either side of him, trapping him in place.

“What’s so good about you? For such a cat to be interested in you- or you body. I don’t know… it kinda makes me really want to know what’s under all this clothes.” One of his free hands roam down to the waistband of Carl’s pants, hovering.

In an instant, Carl shoves his hands aside and bolts to the other corner of the room. “Leave me alone,” he begs, in disbelief what the captain was trying- no, what he was _about-_ to do.

This golden boy, who everyone saw as the beautiful, capable leader of the football team, was no longer the golden student. He was leering at Carl with a grin that seemed too wide for his face, his hands balled up like he wanted to strike.

“C’mon, Grimes, I won’t tell anyone,” his breaths were quick and ragged. Ever since the accident he was careful to hide his limp, but after even that short sprint, he was fatigued, the pain from the scratch causing cold sweat on his temples. If captain were to lunge at him and try something, he would be too weak to stop it.

Just then, a group of rowdy boys stepped into the room, still hyper from their active lunch break. They walked in between the blonde and the brunette, and in that second, Carl hobbles out of the gym. The coach gave him a zero for not being changed, but it was so worth it; it was certainly better than getting a beating or worse. Under the watchful eyes of the teacher, he was spared from any other harassment, but the kid had given him a dead look with savage eyes. _This is not over._

There was a moment in the locker room when he had not been himself. In the fit of panic, there was also an overwhelming awareness of anger. Carl had been tempted to fight back just to see what kind of havoc he was actually capable of making. He wanted to see the blood and the red on himself. On the other kid. Maybe even on the walls and the mirrors. Maybe the fear to protect himself wasn’t the only reason why he fled.

But he knew what would have happened if he had struck back. He was the complete opposite of the blonde. There was something radiant about the captain; he was bright with a great personality and amazing sports skill that made up for his lacking grades. Everyone loved him and sucked up all the fake words that came out of his mouth.

On the other hand, Carl was the lackluster weird kid who didn’t interact with others. The one boy who wore rags to school and didn’t seem to have any social connections. The one who probably has mental issues and would be most likely to commit a mass shooting.

Only two people have really accepted him: Ron and Enid. Enid was the first to approach him. She probably only spoke to him out of pity, but he was still grateful that she spent time with him. Those old days made him feel somewhat normal. It was relief to know that someone cared about him and accepted him.

_“I’m Enid, nice to meet you.”_

_“You’re actually really pretty, Carl!”_

_“Wanna go to the mall this weekend, Carl?”_

_“Could you study with me?”_

When she and Ron became a thing, they spent less and less time going places together. They eventually gave up speaking altogether when he let jealousy taint their conversations. Carl never really liked Ron and so he avoided him as well. The way he had handled things should’ve been different; he wished that he had broken things off with her softer. In the end, they argued.

 _“Why do you keep pushing me away?”_ was the last thing she said to him and they haven't spoken since.

 

XXXXX

 

Thankfully, kids were easily distracted. A few weeks later, the whole “rich guy thing” died down. One day he had been called into the counseling office for questioning about the strange man, but he was easily able to get out of the situation by lying and hushing the event. Negan was fucking right- who the fuck really cared? He was only worried that someone might try to get in contact with his parents. Carl decides to put Tara onto it.

He was back to being a nobody, but he was glad. Carl would have to be extra careful so nothing like that could happen again. All he wanted was to get through senior year quietly, and then he could be far away without always lugging around the fear and need to constantly conceal his identity.

His shift at the convenience store starts at four so he immediate heads there after classes. Upon arriving, he dons on the mandatory apron and settles behind the cashier. Normally high schoolers weren’t allowed to work the night shift, or any shift in general, at corner stores, but Carl was an exception. He was hired only because he knew cigarette and alcohol brands like the back of his hand. He didn’t tell his manager the reason being that he went to lavish parties and was offered all kinds of kicks and smokes. Not like he’d believe Carl anyways.

When he got bored, he did his homework while balancing a calculator on a knee, careful to not touch the healing wound. He twiddles with his hair and chews at the butt of his pen. Since this was mainly an adult store, and it was far from his school, there was really no one to bother him.

At around seven, he looks up when the doorbell rings, ready to receive a new customer. But the greetings doesn't leave his mouth as he is shocked into silence by the stranger. Only it’s not a really stranger.

Negan’s look of bewilderment matched his. He was stupefied for only a few seconds before his features transform with glee.

“Third fucking time’s the charm, right?”

Scowling, Carl looks away to evade the question but turns back to glower at the man’s back as he walks down the aisles. He feels his ears beginning to heat up; it always happened when Negan caught him by surprise.

“My ma said if you meet someone three times in a row then its fate.” Carl jerks out of his musing at Negan’s voice. He narrows his eyes.

“No, she didn’t,” he retorts.

“No, she didn’t,” Negan agreed, probably grinning. “But it totally works in our case, doesn't it?”

“You believe in that stuff?” the brunette asks, rolling his eyes.

“Hell yeah I do! Just like I believe how some bullshit higher power will soon make you say yes to my deal.” At this, Negan tilts his head up to see Carl’s reaction.

“No deal,” Carl answers, softly, dropping his gaze.

He hears a small, “fuck me,” from Negan’s direction.

When the man had picked out what he wanted, he made his way to the register. The boy was greeted with a pack of beer, a bag of beef jerky, and a pack of licorice.

“What are you buying?” Carl demanded in horror at the sight of the candy.

“Some beer, food, and candy, _duh_.”

“ _No_ , you’re getting _garbage_!” he exclaims, pointing accusingly at the licorice. “That stuff tastes like tar!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, what’s your favorite then?”

Carl walks up to the candy rack with purpose. His limp was almost completely gone. He swipes a pack of toffee and tears it open, handing the bag to Negan. “If you don’t like then I don’t know what you’ll like. Your tastebuds must be messed up.”

Laughing the man takes a piece and pops it into his mouth. Carl couldn’t help but notice the scruff around his neck and the dimples that dipped into his cheeks. He gulps as his eyes fall lower and realizes, for the first time, that the man before him was in very good shape. He didn’t have a beer belly like Carl expected with all that junk food; instead, his arms were firm and toned, strong muscles bulged from under his shirt.

“This shit’s good,” Negan nods his head appreciatively. Carl turns pink in embarrassment after he realizes what he was doing.

“Told you so,” he answers, gruffly.

The man doesn’t leave, however; instead, he heads over to where Carl had just been. Curiously, the boy peeks over his shoulder to see him snatch another bag of toffee along with another item.

Coming over, Negan sets all three down. The brunette checks them all and bags them.

But just as he was picking up the Hubba Bubba tape gum, Negan stops him by placing a larger hand over his. Underneath the strong, warm hand, Carl feels his own pulse speed up rapidly. His breath hitches.

“Those two are for you,” he indicates at the gum and the unopened toffee with a nod. “That was a good snack back in my day.”

Negan pushes the Hubba Bubba back to Carl. The teen has to take short low breaths to sedate himself. Trying to remain cool and impassive, he fights to keep a poker face on, almost faltering when Negan grins.

“You have a terrible taste in candy.”

Howling with laughter, Negan grabs the bag and slings it over his shoulder.

“Thanks, kid.”

He walks out of the shop, but turns around to wink at the Carl.

The brunette blushes and brushes the hair out his eyes, hotly. He considers tossing the food out, but yanks them from the counter and stuffs them into his backpack. A part of him was genuinely flattered by the attention. Carl had never really been pursued like this, so for someone to publicly state that he wanted him was a bit frightening. But this kind of surprise was novel and he almost liked it.

 _Just give in_ , a voice told him, but he swats himself on the forehead for even thinking of such a thing.

 

XXXXX

 

On one Friday night, Carl decides to take care of the next person on his hitlist: Gareth, the vice-president of the Terminus Incorporation and a former beloved politician in the country. Not only was he the most influential person in the company, but Carl had discovered that Gareth might even be able to play his cards better than the president himself. If anyone could transfer some extra money into Rick’s pocket, it would definitely be him.

He corners the man that night and it doesn’t take much conversation to realize that the vice-president was _especially_ interested. The boy had him drooling and tripping over his own feet like a hormonal teenager with just a few flirtatious glances and faux innocent remarks. Carl leads him to the bedroom, and the deal is made before he even spread his legs.

The next week, he is invited to attend an auction with Gareth. The man had promised to buy him whatever he wanted, and Carl wasn’t dim-witted enough to let such an opportunity slide.

Thus, here he was, dressed in a slim, body fitting suit and a pair of lacey high heels. It was quite a strange attire, but he felt good in it. Tara had gotten the pair of shoes for his birthday as a joke, and afterwards handed him the receipt so he could return them and buy something else for himself, but he kept them. It was his dirty little secret.

When he was a kid, he watched his mom flit here and there with a new pair every week, and he had always wanted to try them himself. He had realized, for a while now, that he was into pretty things. So when he was given the chance, he would wear these heels. It was mainly for whenever he was accompanying his men, as he was still too reluctant to show his father. He could never imagine casually walking around in the house with them.

Gareth arrived at his house at precisely nine p.m.. His father had called earlier to state that he would be home extra late, so Carl allowed Gareth to pick him up directly from his house.

“You look amazing.” Gareth was breathless, unable to hide the desire in his voice.

“Thanks, I know.”

They made small talk on the way to the Monroe auction theatre, and Carl was grateful for the distraction. The night before, he was still making sure that there wouldn’t be anyone close to home going. He didn’t want Philip or Shane, or anyone else that he held a grudge against, attending. After all, he was still paranoid that they’d tattle on him to Rick.

It was an exquisite house with numerous sports car lined up on the driveway. They step into the opulent entrance for check in. Carl wasn’t surprised to find other boys looking like him, around the arms of older and richer men who probably left their wives home that night. One faunlet, in particular, winks at him with fluttery eyelashes, which made Carl look back as he passed.

And as he looks back, he was taken aback by the sight of a tall man who had the same body build as Negan. But as he squinted to get a better look, another couple steps into his line of sight and blocks his view. It could’ve been the man because, unluckily for Carl, he had forgotten to check for his attendance last night.

After they were checked in, Carl leads Gareth quickly away from the foyer and into the main living room that was spacious enough to seat several hundred people. They had reserved seats near the front of the room, as Gareth was a special guest, and there was no need to rush there straight away. Carl consented to being dragged around as Gareth met and greeted the head of the Monroe house and the other visitors.

The man in charge of the auction was a repugnant man in his late fifties who seemed more interested in groping the ass of the boy by his side and staring vulgarly at Carl than his conversation with Gareth and his aging wife.

Carl detached himself from his date to speak with her and finds out that her name is Deanna. From her features, Carl could tell she was once a beautiful woman, but time has faded her youth. She tells him how she married at only eighteen to support her family and all about her husband’s infidelity. Carl decides that he likes her; she is stronger than many other people he knew and he spoke to her with great praise.

He makes a note in his phone to send her flowers that night when he got home.

Wishing he had eaten beforehand, he devours the wide selection of finger foods like a madman and chugs champagne to sate his hunger. When the auctions starts, he’s still starving, but he refrains himself from stealing away to the nearest fast food restaurant.

The first few items of the auction are art pieces, which he appreciates, but has no real interest in. Thinking that the rest of the items would be the same, he lets his eyes roam, attention falling to other things.

There are beautiful people in the seats around him like the high necked ladies and neatly trimmed men. He sees an exceptionally alluring woman in a gorgeous red dress and is almost unable to take his eyes away from her. But the thought that Negan might be somewhere in the area has him squinting to the back. The glare from the shining lights above makes it hard to pinpoint faces and make out specific movements from the audience.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen. This next piece is incredibly rare. Here it is: Cobain's Mosrite Gospel Mark IV guitar. The bid starts at 80,000 dollars.”

Carl’s head snaps up. Kurt Cobain’s guitar? He remembers when he was young, and when his father was still just an ordinary business man, there was always the sounds of a guitar in the house. Rick loved all things rock ‘n’ roll, be it classical or contemporary, and had always admired Cobain’s skills and music. It wasn’t the most expensive item, and Carl decides that he really wanted it.

“81, 81. Do we have a 82? We do; 82, 83...”

Nudging gently at Gareth, Carl gives a pointedly look at the guitar. The man gives him a reassuring smile and raises his paddle.

“85! 86? 86, 86, 87! Can we get to 90? Yes? I see a 90! 90 down. 91?”

Gareth raises his number again, grinning over at Carl. Carl smiles at him, sweetly. This was little money to Gareth and he knew that.

“...95, 96, 96? 96! Do we have a 97 going around? 97?”

The boy nuzzles closer to Gareth with fluttering lashes, imitating the kid he had passed earlier. He places his palm over the man’s crotch and adds more pressure onto the heel of his hand. Massaging fixedly, Carl sees his aroused reactions and knows that the man has consented to the bet.

“110? Folks we are nearing record price! Can we get a 111? Yes we can! 115? 115, 116.”

However, it soon became clear that with each climb in the price, there was a buyer that was intent on rising higher than Gareth. Frowning, Carl tries to get a glimpse at the number, but all the raised hands and faces blind him. “I want it _real_ bad,” he discloses to his date, stroking a firm length now. He feels a hand wrap around his waist.

“...130! Can we get to 150? There we are! 150! What’s this? We have an offer for 170! Anyone willing to go higher?” Gareth consents. At this point Carl begins to grow uncomfortable. 170,000 dollars was way to much for a guitar, no matter who its owner was before. His dad used to play one before the company grew and he certainly wants one, but perhaps not for this ridiculous price. Yet...at the same time, it wasn’t as if he was paying for it.

“This gentleman is very decided,” the auctioneers smiles at the pair. “Anyone on this side willing to go higher?”

Apparently someone was, because there was an amused gasp from the crowd. “Alright, folks! We have an offer for 200! Will you gentlemen go higher?”

Gareth seemed slightly unwilling, but at the wistful look on the boy’s face, he raised the paddle again.

“210! 220? 220? 220! Hold on, we have an offer for 270!” This causes another dramatic exclamation from the guests. It was finally too much. Carl shakes his head strongly. Gareth gives him a slightly apologetic look.

“I’ll get you something better,” the man whispers, fondly. Carl agrees shyly. And later that week, Gareth does get him something nicer- and undeniably prettier. It was a Patek Philippe watch with tiny intricate details of the sun and the moon. The clockwork was like magic. Secretly, he loved it, and was prepared to wear it the next time he attends a gala, but he knows that would be the last contact he would have with Gareth. It was like that with everyone after all.

“We have a 270! 280? 270, going once, going twice…sold for 270,000 dollars!”

There was no use; it was obvious that their rival wanted the guitar more than them. The defeat dispirited him, but he was also genuinely curious as to who it was. The money used on the instrument was well-placed and well fought. Whoever won it was definitely more well-off since the payment was given all in cash.

As people left, he detaches himself from Gareth again and walks up to admire the guitar. There was a small stab in him as he stares at the beautiful orange to black ombre. He inquires an auctioneer.

“Who bought it?” Carl asks, honestly surprised and rather impressed.

“A man from the Sanctuary Enterprises.”

That confirmed it- it had to have been Negan. The man he had seen, had the exact same built, leanness, and swagger. But he couldn’t be one hundred percent sure.

It torments him the entire week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be exciting heheheeh. New character and romance time coming up!


	3. Here Comes a Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl does what he never thought he'd do, storytelling, and dinner. 
> 
> ＼（゜э゜）／

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to EdgyFood87, MissOctober13, and Leef for being cutie pies and supporting me with super comments!!!! I love you guys. ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿  
> Again, comments are very appreciated! Gimme that sugar!
> 
> So guys, I'm guessing that it's gonna take about 2 weeks for each new chapter! But- not to worry- I've been on top of things! It's the editing that really irks me. Paper-chan pushes me like a demon, glaring at me with cute but deadly eyes. Anyways for the number of chapters for this fic, I'm thinking about 25. I've planned 5 parts for this story, each part with about 5 chapters. I think y'all will enjoy part 2. hehehe

“The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play. So we sat in the house. All that cold, cold, wet day.”  
-Dr. Seuss, _The Cat in the Hat_

  

* * *

  

It is late September when Carl comes across Negan again.

At another dinner with his father, Carl unknowingly steps into the man’s way. Looking up in irritation and surprise, Carl is immediately taken aback. He stumbles to get away and attempts to avoid him, but only manages to fall on his ass.

Laughing Negan extends a hand and looks almost hurt when Carl brushes it away.

“Still refusing me?” he asks with a pout that seemed out of place on his daunting frame. Carl shivers. “I gotta tell you, kid, my patience is running real-fucking-thin lately. You better make up your pretty little mind, cause the more you wait, the harder it’ll get for you. I mean it.”

Frowning at Negan’s words, Carl snarls, “ _You_ better make up _your_ mind and leave me alone. Unless you want to find out how dangerous I am.” The moment the words left his mouth, Carl had to bite his tongue. Curse his stupid fat mouth.

“What the fuck, kid?” Negan looked astonished, but his tone held a hint of actual anger. “Well, pardon me, young man, excuse the _shit_ out of my goddamn French, but did you just _threaten_ me?"

The boy doesn’t answer.

“That just made me two hundred percent more into you,” the man said with a bark, leaning close into his space to tell him. As he was preparing to walk pass Carl, his hand snakes up his shoulder. “I don’t wanna hurt your goddamn pride, but you are just _asking_ for it.”

Carl is left with a bad feeling and a sour taste in his mouth. Was that a direct threat? But there was no way Negan could do anything. Silently praying, he hopes the man was just bluffing.

The next day, as he heads to lunch from Rick’s office, he gets caught up in his thoughts.  Ever since Negan had visited him at school, things have changed drastically. Suddenly he was the center of attention with his classmates, despite having no friends. They stared at him with a mixture of fear and interest that left him feeling both pride and apprehension. There was something that was always on the back of his mind and he was constantly coming head to head with Negan; a part of him even occasionally enjoyed their banter.

They were sometimes almost sweet with each other, and Carl enjoyed those times immensely, but then Negan would say something horrible that triggers an angered response from Carl and they’d be back to square one. It was infuriating yet so tantalizing at the same. He couldn’t get enough and it seemed that way for the man too. Opposites attract, they say, but scratch that- they were the same.

For the first time since Paul Rovia, Carl was a target for romance. He was almost giddy at the thought of it, but of course, Negan wasn’t exactly his kind of man. He likes agreeable men, easy going and peaceful. Negan was not like that at all. He always wore a charming facade, but had a offensive attitude when he was confronted. If anything, Negan was very similar to him. They were both always on the edge, wanting the last word. They were both impatient, it seemed, and they both paraded around with masks during work. It irks Carl to no avail, so he has no idea how they have lasted this long without literally ripping out each other’s lungs.

Though that one time at the park, Carl had noticed how nice his body and muscular arms were- but that obviously wasn’t the point.

Thinking nothing worse could happen to him, Carl was proven so wrong when he is about to cross the street and is almost hit by a car _again_. This time, as he’s falling, he’s laughing at himself for thinking his life was already bad enough. This was definitely the cherry on top of his shitty life. How unfortunate.

Only, it might not be so bad because the next thing he sees is a beautiful woman coming towards him from the car.

“I thought I killed you!” She bends down and helps him up, both leaning against the car. Cars are honking at them, but she doesn’t seem to care.

“Hi,” Carl said mindlessly, trying to process how gorgeous she was. She was one of the most magnificent women he had ever seen in his life, not to mention- she looked _really_ familiar.

“Howdy, partner!” She laughs nervously, voice tinged with a Georgian accent similar to his father’s. “Are ya hurt?”

“No, I’m fine,” he mumbles. “This is the second time this month,” he adds, blankly, seeing stars.

“What second time?”

“The second time I almost got run over by a car in the past month.”

The woman laughs, not pretentiously and with snorts and a smile that crinkled up her eyes. “Yikes. Then I’m glad you got out okay from both.” She puts her hand on her hip. “You’re not gonna holler at me?” she asks.

The smile rings a bell in his memory. Carl recognizes her then. She’s the breathtaking lady from the charity auction inthe red dress. He squints up at her and sees that she is now dressed in a pair of jeans and a white shirt. “You were at the auction,” he proclaims.

Curiosity clouds her eyes but realization hits quickly. “Which one?” she asks.

“The one in August, with the paintings and the guitar.”

“You were there? Are you old enough?”

Carl nods frantically. “You looked pretty in the red dress.”

She laughs again. “You’re cute.”

 _She thinks I’m cute,_ the boy thinks, feeling silly. He sways a bit when he pushes away from the car. She looks concerned as she lets him lean on her.

“Why don’t we go somewhere to grab a bite? It’s lunch time and it’s the least thing I can do after almost killing ya.” He doesn’t even have time to nod before she’s helping him into the passenger seat, her grip like iron around him. Her strength turned him on but also petrified him. She takes him to a small diner and orders him a huge burger, fries, and a milkshake. He learns that her name is Maggie and that she came from a small town in Georgia before moving to Arizona.

Carl discovers that he really likes her. Unlike the fake women he’s met at the galas, Maggie was anything but superficial. Incredibly intelligent and very beautiful, she graduated from the University of Arizona, but dreamed of living in the high life so she worked hard and eventually rose to the top with her own business.

“My father didn’t like it, but he grew content when money came floodin’ in.”

“Do you live with him?” Carl asked, licking the ketchup off his fingers, the crash completely forgotten by the intriguing story.

“Nah, he’s got his own place.”

Then she leans closer to him. “How about you?” Maggie questions, “I’ve been talkin’ about myself this whole time, but how come I feel like I know you?”

“You might have heard of me,” he admits hesitantly. “My dad is the head of the Alexandria Incorporations.”

Her eyebrows raise. “Alexandria Incorporations? That makes your father, Rick Grimes, right? Which in turn makes you...Carl Grimes.”

The boy shrugs. “Told you you’d know me.”

“I knew you weren’t a normal kid when I almost ran you over. Your suit is something else. Very cute.” Carl smiles.

Seeing as Carl was obviously uneasy talking about himself, she smoothly changes the topic. Carl notices that she was completely different from the way she looked during work hours. Though she was capable of dressing like nobility, she chooses to hides behind casual wear, reminding him of himself. The thought makes him smile wide, wider than he has smiled in a long time.

Maggie gets him laughing so hard, his stomach ached. They talk until the sun falls low in the blue sky and they still aren’t tired of each other. Her intelligence matched his wit. Their connection is quick and Carl finds it extremely easy to speak with her. Before they part, the pair exchange numbers with glee and promise to meet again.

In this rare moment of happiness, he forgets about danger with Negan.

 

XXXXX

 

For the last three months, the Alexandria Incorporations had been working hard to secure a deal with another prominent company. Rick had been handling the persuasion with great conviction, seeming like he was always in the process of creating another strong argument.

It was a vital deal; the life of company was depending on it now. They couldn’t afford to lose this opportunity to raise their profits and bring in a surplus of investments. Afterall, Rick was nearing bankruptcy despite all the money Carl been garnering. None of it seemed to matter in the long run and tension was running high in the office.

On one late autumn afternoon, as Carl was making his way home, he gets a phone call from Tara.

“What’s up, T?”

“Carl, big problem,” the tone of her voice, sent him immediately into defense mode. He imagines the worst. Someone dead, him by himself.

“Is everything okay with you? Dad?”

“Yes. No. Everything's not fine with us.” There was a quivering sigh that scared the shit out of the teen. “The goddamn deal failed.”

Freezing in his spot, Carl feels his blood run cold. “No way,” he whispers. All their hard work, all the overtime Rick had done in the office, it was all for nothing? There was no way. No way he would let that happen. It probably crushed his dad when the news came and he hated that he could do nothing to make the situation better.

“I can’t believe it too. Rick spent so long on it, but they told us today that there was another bullshit, better offer.”

“What the fuck?” Carl growled, pulling at his long hair. “What better deal?”

“The Sanctuary Enterprises bought it instead,” she states abruptly.

“ _Sanctuary Enterprises_ ?” he asked, suddenly burning. Thinking back to his previous conversation with Negan, he is hit with a ghastly thought. _The more you wait, the harder it’ll get for you,_ the man had said.

No way.

“I’m going to the office right now, Tara,” Carl rushes out, shaking out of his oversized jacket and stepping out of his old shoes.

“You’re gonna love what they sent us,” she comments bitterly over the line, scoffing.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see.”

And Carl does see when he hastily careens into the building.

Alexandria had received a package from the Sanctuary after the phone call bearing the bad news. It was a manilla envelope containing a single piece of paper with the words, **NO ONE LIKES A SORE LOSER,** in bold red letters. Rick was locked in his office and Carl was seething in anger.

He is almost sure it was Negan’s doing. Only he would be petty enough to send something as ludicrous as that. Negan had also claimed that on the first night they unofficially meet, he had seen Carl with Philip Blake. Maybe it was coincidence, but Carl was sure Negan had used his exact words to send a direct message. Carl was aware that Negan was rich, from the auction incident, but he never expected him have enough money to buy such a large organization in bidding. After all, he was running a young business.

There were many companies going for this one, but Rick had seemed to be winning. So what the fuck happened?

His father tells him to go home and rest and leaves no room for argument. Rick calls Tara and the others together for a conference while Carl was sent away. An outcast again. His father not trusting him enough felt like a punch to the gut. _Dad!_ He wants to scream. _Look at me! Look at all the things I’ve been doing for you._ But he doesn’t speak. Spencer had given him a particularly dark smile as he entered the meeting room as if to say, “Should’ve listened to me in the beginning.”

Maybe he should have listened to Spencer. Maybe he should have sacrificed his pride and given in to Negan from the start. Now his stupidity and lack of care had cost them something momentous. He was torn between two choices now: either admit defeat and watch the company sink or take up the damn offer. Both situations was a lose for him. This approach-avoid state was hurting his head.

Too upset to do anything that night, Carl settles in front of his computers, hoping to distract himself with some random videos. And is immediately distracted by a flashing from his phone. “What the-?”

Unlocking his phone, he is greeted by a string of new message from an unknown number. These messages were being continuously sent to him. When he opens the message app, he is so unnerved, he drops his device. He barely caught a glimpse of what the message contained, but it was enough to scare him. They appeared to be a series of photos, all of which featured him. It's him with Gareth, in heels, and him at auction.

He picks up his phone with a shaking hand. There was more.

There’s him kissing Gareth and the most disturbing yet was the last picture of him underneath Gareth, face contorted with pleasure. His pale legs were in stark contrast to the darkness in room and the darker skin of the man; it was obvious what they were doing. The photo had been taken from outside a window. Whoever had done this, had climbed up to their balcony and captured them in the moment; it was planned.

There was no way Negan had done this, right? It was too cruel of a thing to do; blackmail was on a completely different level, yet Carl had no way to be sure. For all he knew, the man was capable of anything.

Alarms begin ringing in his ears and the familiar prickle of panic starts to eat at his nerves. “What the fuck? Who the-?” When did he let himself get into such a dangerous gamble. It was never supposed to turn like this. He had always been careful with everything. With timing- that was the most important- with place. Everything had always sorted out into a complete, safe puzzle in the end. Not this time, it seemed.

He knows that this blackmail shouldn’t be working, but somehow it was. God, the next time he saw Negan, he was going to bash his skull in. Or maybe he’d just take the deal and submit. Submit? Carl didn’t want to have to shed a piece of his pride for the man!

“No, no, no.” He shut his eyes. “I can’t. I can’t.” He’s repeating himself when his nails start digging into his old wounds. He claws up the blue vines on his white arms, watching as the skin turns a vicious red. Feeling the familiar distress crawl up his throat, he makes it to the toilet just in time to vomit his meager dinner. With growing pains from his wounds and a pounding headache, Carl drags himself to the bed and wiggles under the sheets.

That night he dreams that he’s being chased in an icy terrain, a monster hot on his trail. It began as Shane, then it transformed into his mom, his dad, and finally into Negan.

Carl wakes up furious and covered in sweat, his sheets stuck to him and part of his face was wrinkled with sleep lines. He is so pissed he can hardly concentrate in class, scratching Negan’s name into his notebook then angrily crossing it out with his pencil, then ripping the paper into shreds when he was done.

He wanted to hit something and when Negan shows up at his front door, later that day, Carl doesn’t even question it.

“What the _fuck_ did you do?” Carl hisses, rushing immediately at the man. He grabs the taller man’s shirt and balls it into a fist around his fingers. He digs his nails hard into Negan, pulling at him. The impulse to lash out and tear at any bit of skin is nearly overwhelming, but he forces himself to breathe out evenly.

Negan laughs as his back connects with the solid door, jerking at the cold. His two men make a move to grab Carl away, but he waves them off. 

“What do you mean, Carl? I didn’t _do_ anything. I just came over to see if you changed your mind.”

“Cut the bullshit!” Carl practically screams. Then suddenly, as if the anger had been vacuumed away, the fight in him disappears. Negan wears a look of bewilderment as the boy’s shoulders begin to rise and fall as sobs overcome him.

Carl cries softly, tears falling freely on his face. His eyes are shut tight in attempt to staunch the flow, but he is unable to control it. “You ruined fucking _everything_ ,” he gets out. It was true; Negan has taken a crucial part of the company away with his little stunt. What could Rick do now? What could he do to lessen the blow? The surrounding is silent and he can vaguely feel Negan’s shock.

Then without warning, Carl pushes the man back and presses his mouth against Negan’s. Startled by the warm lips, Negan freezes.

It takes them both a moment to realize exactly what was happening. Carl’s lips were on Negan’s. Kissing him. Secretly, Carl feels a thrill run up his body, pooling in his gut. The moment the other man realized the tangibility of the real thing, he kisses back with the same fervor and same intensity. They fight with tongues, Carl drawing back slightly at the burn from Negan’s beard and Negan, in turn, jumps at the teeth from the kid. Carl nearly gasps at the deeper contact.

The teen jerks away at the same time, unwilling to fall into another trap. “I’ll take the deal, you son of a bitch,” he grits out through clenched teeth.

His red brimmed eyes were sparkling with challenge and Negan visibly has to compose himself. He’s grinning despite his now-rumpled appearance. It takes him a minute to even out his breathing. “You were going to need me sometime, kid.”

Carl narrows his eyes, desperately wanting to say something back, but chooses to stay quiet instead. His attempt to act submissive must have worked because the man was practically glowing. “You have to take everything I give you.” And at the boy’s silence, Negan adds, “okay?”

The brunette nods carefully, still fuming, but now feeling strange at the reminder of what he had just done. The red lips on the man confirmed that he had just kissed him.

Negan hums in approval. He walks closer to the kid and curls a finger over his baby-soft cheek. “Imagine the look on their faces,” he says gently, almost to himself. “I can finally call you my boy!” He quietly whoops, startling Carl, who flinches at his enthusiasm.

They were in his territory. He shouldn’t have to feel afraid.

So he squares up to the man, which earns him a low whistle. Acting braver than he felt, Carl hisses, “I’ll give you the time of your life, you crazy bastard.” Negan’s eyebrows shoot up, happiness radiating off him like the rays of the sun. He’s really beaming now. Carl forces himself to not look away while the man’s arm comes up to him to wrap around his waist.

They stare at each other, something new blooming in Negan’s eyes.

 

XXXXX

 

Carl hadn’t actually expected Negan to keep his side of the baraign, but the money was deposited into his separate bank account the next day. He hadn’t checked the actual amount, but he knew, that whatever the numbers were, he would surely be shocked. And suddenly, Rick was getting investments left and right and the whole affair didn’t feel so bad when he saw the smile on his dad’s face. In a week or so, Tara announced that Alexandria would continue. They were basically ‘saved.’

When they had parted that day, Negan had given his phone number to him, all the while, acting like a kid on Christmas day. In return, Carl gave the man his own.

He hadn’t known what to expect. He thought there would be more anticipation- hell, he thought Negan would expect at least handjob or something before he wired in all that cash, but there seemed to be no catch which just made him more nervous. Everything seemed too good to be true. This kind of easy money was almost too easy.

He expected some sort of contact, a phone call or a text even, but all he got was a visit from one of Negan’s lackeys, a feeble looking blonde called Dwight. There was a large burn on the side of his face, but it didn’t mask his fair visage; Carl tried to not look at it anyways. He had shyly driven to Carl’s house with a cheesecake and a bouquet of pink camellias and told him that Negan sent his regards. When the kid questioned him about contact, Dwight looked embarrassed. He told him that the president of the Sanctuary was an extremely busy man and that he’ll try to find time soon to see him.

Carl wondered what his neighbors would say if they happened to see Dwight and him on the porch exchanging conversation with flowers and cake. He tells the blonde that he appreciated the gesture and to tell Negan thanks. When he had gone, Carl digs into the cheesecake.

He actually feels charmed. The flowers were now smiling at him from the desk in his room. There was something very sweet about the gift. And a piece of his irritation flies out the door, but the looks he received at school didn’t make the situation any better. He couldn’t meet Enid’s eyes and the captain was always trying to make eye contact. His emotions have been as stable as the raging seas and he has been languishing for weeks now.

And how did Negan find out where he lived?

At least his father was happy.

 

XXXXX

 

The next time they meet, the leaves are brown and crunchy underneath his feet and Halloween decorations are on almost every house. Carl is working his shift at the convenience store, shivering and watching the clock. It was almost time to go. Outside, a storm was brewing; the clouds overhead were thick and dark, rain threatening to fall any second. This kind of weather always made him horny and tired.

But he also didn’t want to go home to the lonely house.

Just then, the bell rings and he is greeted with Negan’s white teeth. Carl is blinded for a second and then remembers he is still pissed at the other man.

Negan continues to grin at him as he makes his way down to the row of refrigerators, their eyes locked onto each other. It only pisses the kid off more. They only look away when the bell signals that another customer walked in. Carl sees the man looking at the beers in stock in the refrigerator aisle and a thought entered his mind briefly. What if Negan came here just to see him. After all, they haven’t seen each other in quite a while.

Rolling his eyes, the kid turns away and pulls the apron off his body. He tightens his sneakers with his foot on the stool. Thinking he could use a hot cup of coffee, he considers buying a pack of the instant kind, but is diverted by a wave in his peripheral vision.

“Can I get a hand with this?”

Carl looks up at Negan, who’s gesturing for him to go over.

“My shift is over. Maybe you can ask the next guy.”

Negan points two fingers at his eyes and then directs them to Carl. “God dammit, Carl! When I tell you to get over here, you pick up your perky little ass and get it over here! Besides,” he adds, looking almost uncomfortable, for once. “I actually need the fucking help.” He hesitantly holds up a tightly wrapped hand.

“What the hell happened to you?” Carl asked, jumping up, the concern at the injury making him forget that this man is supposed to be his enemy. He feels a pang of regret at his cold words.

“Hurt myself when I was exercising. No big deal.” He wasn’t looking at the boy now, suspicion emitting from him like he was a radio station.

“Bullshit.” The teen stares at the way it was bound. It was wrapped tightly around his arm at an angle that was deliberately done as if to cover something long. They looked like his own bandages after his nails clawed up his skin vertically. “You cut yourself!”

Carl hurriedly props the door open to the fridge with his foot and grabs the pack of the beer the man was nudging at. He puffs in effort, hobbles to the front, and sets it down onto the counter. Quickly checking it out, Carl sticks out his tongue from the exertion and drops the pack into a plastic bag and then doubling it so that it wouldn't rip the cheap material. The guy in charge of the second shift comes dashing in, drenched in rain, as Carl was heaving the pack onto his shoulder. They exchange nods and Carl walks right out with Negan.

“Where’s your car?” he asked, blinking rapidly as rain smacks him directly in the face.

Negan nods at a sleek black car parked right by the sidewalk in front of them. They walk briskly there and after the man pops open the back, Carl lays the beer down gingerly. His hair had somehow gotten into his mouth and he sputters, trying to spit it out. The older man laughs and brushes it away from his lips, the tip of his thumb grazing Carl’s tongue as it passed.

He smiles and the boy hastily adverts his gaze. Negan pulls back tenderly, the teen’s soft skin still tingling under the touch.

“I should go,” the man mumbles, taking a step back towards his car.

It takes Carl a while to respond, and in that time Negan had walked further away.

“Where are you going?” he babbles out, sounding like the times, years ago, when he inquired after his father as he was leaving. Carl wasn’t thinking straight. Must be the stupid fucking rain. Maybe he really needed that coffee.

Negan stops in his tracks. “To eat. You should get home soon.” He resumes making his way to the vehicle again. Carl watches him go, unwillingly, a feeling of helplessness rising into his lungs. There was a pressure growing in his body that was making it increasingly hard to breathe. Something about this situation sparked a memory in him. The one time Rick had left when Carl was stricken with a fever and he could only wait in the upstairs window as his father left. His throat had been so parched, he couldn’t even speak.

This moment gave him the exact same feeling and he absolutely hated it. He didn’t want to be alone right now. He hadn’t wanted Rick to go and now he didn’t want Negan to go.

“...you’re gonna make me walk?”

Negan twirls around, surprise lighting his face. Carl thought it made him look a hundred years younger. Then he grinned, opening his arms and then pointing at the passenger seat. “C’mon then, kiddo.”

The man drives as Carl sits awkwardly. He noticed that they were heading to downtown. Carl had expected that Negan would just drop him off at his home, but they sped away in the opposite direction. There was a strange tension between them. Negan was obviously happy, but he said nothing the whole ride. The boy also sat in the stressful silence, wondering if he should say something, but he didn’t want to ruin the mood. In twenty minutes, they pull up in front a classically rich looking restaurant.

Negan walks in with him like he was the owner of the place. _Maybe he was_ , Carl thinks with a snort. It would only add onto the growing list of what he didn’t know about Negan. The man had apparently already made a reservation, but he was quickly granted a new table for two. Their waitress looked Carl up and down, suspiciously. He could just guess what they were thinking. It was as if she thought Negan had randomly picked up a street urchin and decided to be generous. He glared back at them.

They took a seat in the extravagant restaurant and received their menus when a strange thought entered his mind. He studies how the other man slicks back his wet hair and looks down at his own moist grubby hand. The rainwater made his skin sticky and uncomfortable.

They were given soft towels to wipe off the rain; Carl shoved his own hair between under his shirt at his neck, letting a tuff stand out from his collar to collect any water that dripped down. His hair was completely soaked and he wished that his locks could be as easily managed as Negan’s that remained greased back.

Negan never seemed to care about his clothes. At least, he never mentioned anything about it. Whenever he was entertaining the other snakes, he made sure to wear his best because they had always expected the finest out of him and he back to them. With Negan, everything was unexpected and new. There was no social norm he had to follow. The thought sends a wave of embarrassment over him.

He must have zoned out like an idiot because Negan flicks him on the forehead.

“Is Carl still in there?”

The brunette gives him the hairy eye which only makes him laugh.

“So, what do you wanna chat about? Anything you want to rant to me about?”

Carl shakes his head. “Not really.” Negan inclined his head.

“Tell me about your mommy then.”

“Why?” Carl asked, instantly irritated. She was almost a forbidden topic in the house. Rick never mentioned her, if he could, and Carl avoided using her name or anything that would bring up unwanted memories. “Don’t you know everything about me?” he challenges.

Negan smiles darkly. “I do, kitten, but I wanna hear that shit from your mouth. I found out a while ago that you have no mommy, only one daddy. And I. Wanna. Know. _Why_.” He taps the table with every word, knowing that the teen jerks with every impact.

Carl looks at him with a blank face. Since he accepted the deal, he had come to terms with the knowledge that the only way out of these circumstances was to just tell him because as stubborn as he was, Negan was always a bit more persistent. Sighing, he starts, “My mom started straying after my dad's business started failing. She was seeing Shane, a previous family friend who also owns a company, every other day.”

“I would’ve loved to meet her, frisky, frisky. Sleeping with a family friend- _Jesus_ \- she must have been desperate!” Negan exclaims. Carl grimaces. “So then she got pregnant?”

“Yea,” Carl continues bitterly, regretting the the topic already because there was a lump starting to form in his throat. He really missed having a complete family. And now that he has started, he couldn’t stop. “Dad loves Judith, but I don’t think she’s his. He won’t even talk about everything that’s happened. I think he’s just trying to escape it and he hasn’t been properly home in months. I haven’t seen my mom in a really long time because I’m afraid I can’t forgive her, but I miss Judy so much. Since you’ve been tracing me, you’ve probably realized that all my friends are either fucking adults or people that work for my dad. I get so pissed because I have to hide everything from everyone all the goddamn time.” He takes a shuddering breath.

“...sorry,” he stammers out eventually, burning with shame and embarrassment.

“Jesus, I’m sorry kid. I didn’t think your family life was that fucked up. All I heard was that your mommy left with the girl, and that your dad was depressed for some time, neglecting his boy and nodding off at work.” Negan look genuinely troubled for him.

“Whatever,” Carl murmurs, unsure if Negan was actually being serious. He picks at his scabs from under the table.

The man sighs, running a hand roughly through his hair. “Look, when I was your age, I didn’t have it that good either.” Carl looked up at him, curious. “I didn’t even have an old man. My momma drank all the time. She was pretty, but she always got so mad when there was liquor. I swore that when I turned 16, I’d get the hell outta town and never go back. And I never fucking did. Left her and the whole shitty town to rot.”

“I’m sorry,” Carl says lamely, cheeks flushed.

“Nah whatever. Totally different times. Almost everyone had a single parent in my small, shitty neighborhood.”

Negan waves his hand and the waitress returns immediately.

“What do you want, kiddo?”

Carl flips open his menu and picks out the most ordinary dish he could find. He was perturbed by the the booklet because there was not a single price written out. Negan smiles at him and orders the exact same thing and a bottle of fine wine.

“How much is that anyways?” Carl asks when the lady went to the other side of the restaurant.

“Three hundred or so, not that bad.”

“Three hundred?!”

Negan chuckles. When the wine arrives, Carl is offered a glass which he takes with indignation at the look from the woman. He takes a big sip, without stopping to test it like he was taught for so many years to do so. He stared the waitress down until she lowered her eyes and muttered an apology. For some reason, it gives his pride a boost.

Then Negan speaks.

“Now tell me about Paul.”

Carl scowls, anger unfurling in him again, mixed in with the distress from their previous point. “No.”

“C’mon! I’m just trying to start some conversation.”

“No, you’re not. Now, you’re just trying to piss me off.” The brunette was getting more and more agitated as Negan’s smile widened. A few people from the stands by his side watch them carefully with alarm at the raised voices. Negan gives him a pointed look.

“The deal means you hide _nothing_ from me,” he says firmly. Carl eyes him warily, swallowing at the intense stare. He hates that the atmosphere could be so easily manipulated by Negan. He hated more how he was helpless he was in this game. Negan was probably loving the attention. Carl clutches the sleeve of his shirt restlessly and tugs it further down to hide the dark healing wounds.

He suddenly snatches Negan’s unfinished wine and sniffs it before he downs it. The man is smirking at him again, challenging him. Carl opens his mouth and retells the story.

“I met him when my parents and I went to Italy for vacation. He was an English and Italian professor and I liked him and he liked me so...we did what all people smitten with each other do.”

“He popped your cherry?” Negan asks, wiggling his eyebrows, his mouth turning downwards unnoticeably.

“Yes,” Carl thinks of Paul. There was something about that trip that would be forever embedded into his memories. It was his literal ‘midnight summer dream’ with a man that was as beautiful as one of the statues that stood in the garden, right outside his room during the stay. Paul was the kindest, tenderest, and most confident man he had ever met. It attracted him and at 14, he couldn’t control his turbulent hormones.

_"If you tell me that you don't want this, then I will leave you alone."_

_"You're beautiful, Carl. Do you know that?"_

"Ti amerò per sempre, _my love."_

“You obviously like him still. He- what- sends you flowers every month and on your birthday? Why not indulge yourself? He’s not shabby.” The man’s voice snaps him back to reality. If Carl had known better, he would have realized that Negan sounded bitter.

He raises an eyebrow. “You are encouraging me? _You?_ ”

Negan’s smile drops. “No, no. Not encouraging. I was...simply curious.”

Carl almost snorts and considers the possibility, but shakes his head a moment later. His face twists with pain at the remembrance of what he had done. Negan couldn’t find out like this; it was a private affair of his heart that should be able to stay hidden if he wished it to. “I can’t tell you.” At the man’s look of confusion, he continues. “Not this- I just…can’t okay? Not like this.”

The man stares him down and the brunette refuses to look up until he hears a huff and a short, “okay, if it bothers you so much.”

Their meals arrive soon after and they eat silently. Carl hopes Negan feels a pinch of discomfort or regret for asking after something he shouldn’t have. It was something that only belonged to Carl and no one else and there was nothing Negan could do about it. Nothing he could say or do to take away that one summer with the best man in the most beautiful place. Feeling bold, Carl asks, “You really have someone digging into my history, huh?”

“I’ve already told you, babe, I’m interested in you,” Negan says, wiping a dab of sauce off his lips. Carl watches, then an idea enters his head. He drinks another glass of wine, which was making him feel good and warm. Almost too warm.

“Is it Dwight who’s getting the info for you? The blonde guy?”

Negan smiles, twirling his fork. “By the way, how was that cheesecake?”

“Deliciously pretty in the trash,” Carl bites back, head suddenly feeling hot.

“I thought you would like the flowers at least,” Negan teases.

“They’re also in the trash.”

Negan looked legitimately pained. “You son of a bitch,” he says with a grin that seemed too amused for some reason. “I personally got that shit for you.” Carl shrugs.

“What happened to your hand?” Carl asks, remembering the bandages from earlier. Negan looks away, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“I told you, kiddo. Just an accident.”

“Negan, c’mon. I told you all about me; the least you can do right now is tell me what happened. I know it’s not just a dumb accident.” He is sounding whiny now, but for some reason, he doesn’t comprehend in that moment that he is acting insanely. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t figure out what. Carl doesn’t even think he needs to realize.

The man’s eyes are twinkling when he looks at him. “You can read me now, can you, baby boy?” Carl rolls his eyes, but his heart warms, unconditionally.

“You’re not as opaque as you’d like to be,” he agrees.

“I could say the same for you.”

Negan sighs. “I guess I can’t hide it from you. I cut myself in a fight, okay? Some idiot had it out for me so I taught that guy a lesson. Nothing crazy, but he managed to get a good one in.”

“ _Really_?” Carl asked, unimpressed. He was clearly not buying it.

“Yes and it freaking hurt like hell,” Negan draws. “That’s fucking literally it.”

Carl glares at him, but resumes eating. Of course, he wouldn't  get anything from this man; he should’ve known better. His thoughts trail off to the rumors he had heard about Negan. People claimed he was part of some mafia group, others were positive his suddenly burst of money and revenue were from illegal activity like human trafficking or drugs. Carl didn’t believe any of it but now that he has actually spent time with the man, he was definitely getting the agressive big boss vibes.

He reaches for another glass of wine, but Negan puts a hand over his cup. “Not a good idea, kiddo. You’ve had a lot already and I don’t think you can handle any fucking more.”

Unknowing of the slurring in his next words, Carl shoves the hand away. “What the fuck do y’know about me?” He steals the drink again and this time, the warmth in him turns into a small fire. When he blinks, it takes him an extra minute to open them again. When had he gotten so tired?

Negan smiles wide, his dimples on full display. “Taste good?”

Carl shrugs again.

He eats more, but the taste on his tongue has suddenly faded into a dull flavor. He barely remembers what he was doing.

After their dinner, Carl trips over his feet as he’s walking out. Negan grabs him before he can drop onto the wet ground. Rain was still coming down as hard as ever and Carl is blinded a second time by the sheets of water plunging down on his face. For some reason, it takes him quite some time to realize that he was looking up and that he should probably look down to get away from the showers of precipitation. He stumbles behind the other man, who’s whistling and parading on at a leisurely pace.

“Did you poison me?” Carl grunts. Negan snorts.

“As if I could with those beady eyes on me all night like a damn hawk or some shit. Kinda gets me all hot and bothered when you glare at me like that, if I’m being honest, kid. And just so you know, the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid.” he says, but Carl doesn’t remembering hearing him at all.

Disoriented and dizzy, Carl falls onto the other man.

“What- Carl?”

“I don’t feel so good,” the boy mutters, feeling sick. He could hardly get his head up.

“Shit-shouldn’t have...knew he couldn’t stand the damn challenge.” Negan pulls the boy up and allows him to sprawl against him. “Stay with me, kiddo. Gotta get you somewhere safe.”

Carl nods, unthinkingly. “Safe, warm. I wanna sleep.”

“I fucking want that too! But I gotta get you home first, so get up.”

“I don’t wanna. Can’t you carry me?” Carl feels tears prickle at his eyes. He can’t understand why the man was being so difficult. “Why are you so mean to me? I hate your fucking guts, you piece of crap. You force me to take your stupid deal and you make me hate your ass and then you get so nice and buy me shit. But then you bring up Paul. _Why the fuck would you bring Paul up?_ ”

Negan laughs. “How sober do you think _I_ am?” But he picks Carl up anyways like he was carrying a baby. If the boy was in his right state, he would have haughtily refused to be in such a position, but now he doesn’t even realize. The rain lures him to half-sleep, eyes drooping like they always did on a rainy night. He wraps his arms around the man’s neck and lets his cheek rest on a padded shoulder.

They make it to the parking lot when Carl feels a lurch in his stomach. He doesn’t have time to warn Negan before he vomits all over his back.

“Goddammit, Carl!”

He vaguely remembers being seated and belted in the car before closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone get that reference?  
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	4. Kiss Me Baby, I’m Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleepovers, Lucille, and a new emotion.  
> (*ﾟｰﾟ)ゞ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sweeties! Sorry for the long wait- school's got me going crazy!  
> I'm back with a long chapter to compensate for the time I've stalled. I hope y'all enjoy!  
> The ending is inspired by "Call Me By Your Name"- one of my favorite gay novels and movie! <3
> 
> As always, leave your thoughts and comments please! They really help to motivate my writing!

"You can be the moon and still be jealous of the stars."

-Gary Allan 

* * *

 

The next thing he remembers is waking up on a couch, feeling warmer than he should. He blinks slowly and tries to rub his eyes, but his hands don’t budge. It takes him a while to look down and when he does, he almost convulses in panic. In his flustered state, he manages to accidentally shove Negan off him and onto the floor.

“Oww,” Negan groans, rising gently from the painful fall.

“What are you doing?” Carl demands in abashment, feeling exposed and vulnerable, ignoring the regret of what he had just done.

Negan gives him the hairy eye, glaring accusingly but playfully at the kid. “Sleeping peacefully, last time I checked. Are you in the _goddamn_ right state of mind, pushing an old man off the _goddamn_ couch?” Then suddenly, he squints up at the boy, noticing the look of complete confusion. His features morph into concern. “Do you not remember what you’re doing here? Can you remember last night?”

Carl glares at him defensively, but he feels a blush growing when a surge of memories come flooding in. He remembers going to the store for his shift and waiting for the time to end. He remembers the dark skies and lightning and the embarrassment after having snapped at Negan and the awkward dinner conversation topics, but after that he gets nothing- _nada, zip_ \- no matter how hard he tries to recall. He panics again. “I can’t remember _shit_ from yesterday! Please tell me nothing happened!”

“ _Nothing_ happened! _Chill out_ , kid!” Negan puts his hands up. “You remember the convenience store? I came in, you helped me out, and took the beer to my car. I brought you out to eat cause you were lookin like a fucking drowned puppy.” Carl scoffs at that. If anyone had told him a month before that he would ask for Negan’s comfort one day, he would’ve have laughed. Yet...he had been contradicting himself for so many times now, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

“Then you decided to get shit face wasted and I had to haul you onto my back and bring you here to my place, like a _goddamn gentleman,_ since I wasn’t sober enough to drive you home.”

Carl stares at him, distrustingly. He moves around and shifts on his ass to a more comfortable position. Once he concludes that he felt nothing out of the ordinary he relaxes his muscles. The man didn’t seem like he was lying.

“...right.”

“You also puked all over my back.”

Carl flinches in disgust. Negan looked amused, but serious. “Sorry, sorry. I can’t remember that.”

Negan peered at him curiously. “You _really_ can’t recall what you did last night? The stuff you said on the couch?”

“What stuff?” Carl askes carefully, suspicious at the little added detail.

Negan shakes his head. “It’s not important.”

Huffing, the man brushes his dirtied pants off and picks himself up from the ground. He mourns over the wrinkles in his jacket, that had fallen onto the ground sometime in the night, and cracks his back as he twists around. “...M’getting too old to sleep on the damn couch.”

Feeling guilty, Carl pouts. “Sorry,” he mumbles. But before Negan could answer, a sour taste rises in his throat.

Negan recognizes the look, apparently, because he’s instantly directing Carl to the nearest bathroom. Carl vomits into the toilet, grasping at the edges of the bowl and gagging at the horrid twisting in his stomach.

“What the fuck?” he chokes.

Negan laughs.

“That is called a hangover, young man. It's an after effect that occurs when you overdrink.”

The teen scowls. “I know what a fucking hangover is, you dick.” The man only smiles. “Why didn’t you stop me from drinking so much? Aren’t you supposed to be the responsible adult?”

Negan puts his hands up in defense again. “Woah, woah. I think you can handle yourself. And besides, from the way you were acting last night, I thought you were gonna fuck me in the ass if I tried to get between you and the wine.” Carl turns red. He hangs his head and tries to tame the pounding headache that had crawled into his ear.

He stays silent in embarrassment. Negan turns around and squints at something on the wall, letting out a small gasp. He walks away quickly, and Carl listens hard to distinguish what was happening. Negan’s footsteps gets softer as he steps into another room. Carl hears the distinct sound of a refrigerator opening, and the hiss of the suctions letting go. There comes a clanking ound; Negan must be tsking or pacing.

Still dizzy, Carl chokes again and bends his head towards the toilet. He feels a drip of sweat trace down his temple and notices that the bowl was very clean. It didn’t emanate any repugnant smell, or any chemical odor; it was nice, smooth, and pristine. He doesn’t think Negan has used this bathroom at all.

The man strolls back, hair falling into his face. Carl gawks at the totally relaxed expression on his face. Negan looked more relaxed than Carl had ever seen him. His hair wasn’t gelled and he wasn’t in a formal suit. He had slipped out of his blazer and was only wearing a crinkled tee and a pair of sweats that seemed as though he had messily donned them the night before. Dimples dotted his cheeks as he looked down at the boy, eyes twinkling.

“Go shower and brush your teeth. I got a spare one somewhere.”

Carl growls up at Negan’s smug face.

“No way!”

His mind was dripping down the gutters, and he flushed at the thought of what Negan could do to him. He was alone in an unfamiliar house and without a clear way out. He was extremely vulnerable in this situation, and there was nothing he could do if Negan really tried anything.

This time, it’s Negan who rolls his eyes.

“I’m not gonna jump a defenseless, green little boy who’s under the influence of alcohol, even if he is in _my_ house, _naked_ , and all _alone_.”

Carl huffs, now ashamed that he’d even considered the possibility. Negan probably guessed his worries because he laughs quietly. “Call your daddy, kiddo. He’s probably freaking out by now.”

Carl feels his heart freeze. Fuck, _shit_ , his dad! He had completely forgotten about calling in to tell him where he was. He would either face a month of grounding or an easy pass; he hopes that business was running smoothly. Negan snapped to get his attention, suddenly.

“I’m gonna go for a food run. I’ll make breakfast for us later so you just shower. When you’re done and scrubbed up, you can take whatever you need from my closet.” Negan smiles at Carl for another second or so before he walks to a room upstairs and starts getting ready to go out.

Carl’s heart leaps because Negan was probably only going out as an excuse to leave him with some privacy. At least, he hopes that was the reason.

The boy strains to hear the movements above. Negan walks down soon after and passes by the bathroom again. He points a finger at the kid, an order on his tongue.

“Don’t think about leaving,” he states, a threat in his tone and then he turns and walks out the front door.

Carl waits until he hears the door lock before jumping up and running back into the living room. He strolls through the empty house excitedly, unsure why Negan trusted him to stay in his house without any supervision.

“I could just burn his house down,” Carl says out loud, pensive that he could be heard, but at the silence that followed, he shyly, but not grudgingly returns to the restroom.

He digs through the drawers and resurfaces with a brand new toothbrush. He notes that everything was tidy and clean, despite it being the house of one man- possibly. The room was gray-themed, and

he likes the marble tiles and gray bath walls.

After his teeth are thoroughly cleaned and minty and the throbbing in his head had subsided somewhat, Carl strips quickly and steps into the shower. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror; the wounds stood out starkly on his skin.

Shaking himself, Carl stands for a moment, uncertain and shy, and stares at the complex shower controls blankly. He was first blasted with cold water and then with a blast of air; it takes him a while to associate what button to which command. When he picks up the shampoo, he is taken aback by the scent of the other man. _I smell like Negan now_ , Carl thinks with a shiver.

He towels himself down with one of the two hanging towels on the door of the shower. He runs his fingers down the skin of his body and is left feeling squeaky and soft. He wraps the white cloth around his waist and shivers.

Stepping out of the restroom, with steam filtering out around him, he is filled with butterflies. Feeling nervous, he’s hit with the realization that he was actually _alone_ in his enemy’s house. Negan never mentioned anything about where his room was. He eagerly races up the stairs and along the dark hallway, when he sees an open door. He goes inside and sees a spacious room with a neatly arranged bed. Luxurious curtains hung all along the walls of the room.  

Guessing that this was Negan's bedroom, Carl walks up to the grand dressers. He sees his phone placed methodically on the dresser and quickly reaches for it.

Rick wasn’t furious or panicked, just worried. He tells Carl that he was disappointed Carl hadn’t informed him earlier of the sleepover, but the boy is sure his father was more relieved to hear that he was spending time with his “friends” again. Carl wasn’t really lying- Negan wasn’t exactly a stranger. He tells Rick that he’d be home soon and to not worry then hangs up.

He first drops the towel onto the ground and then proceeds to ruffle through the topmost shelves that held a row of efficiently folded tees. He picks out an oversized black shirt that had the man’s distinctive scent and throws it ob. It was long enough to shield his arms. Carl also considers rewearing his own underwear, but at a second thought, he chooses a clean pair from Negan’s collection and puts it on. It feels ostensibly intimate. Like, his dick was where Negan put his. It was like a dirty secret.

He was basically touching Negan’s dick.

Dressed and now feeling warm, despite the morning chill, Carl decides to explore. Negan hadn’t been gone for a long time; he probably wouldn’t be back for another half hour.

The first thing Carl sees when he turns around is the damn guitar. He walks up to it with slow steps, unsure if he was seeing wrong, but it was what he thought: the fucking guitar from the auction. It was polished and gleaming by the side of the covered window, catching all the slivers of exposed light.

And holy shit, it was pretty, and holy fuck- Negan was at the auction that night. Carl doesn’t dare to touch it, in fear of leaving his oily fingerprints over it, but he can’t help but admire its color and rustic glow. He wanted it so badly, but it didn’t belong to him so instead, he turns away, making a mental note to ask the man. Sidetracked, he pauses to listen to the unceasing rain, smiling at its constancy.

He probes the rest of the room, gawking at the modest and simple design and furniture placement. He didn’t know what to expect of the man, but it was certainly not this. Maybe some armor in the hallways or some other lavish decoration. Certainly not the spartan tastes and lack of furniture. Carl tiptoes through the halls and peeks into every room, amazed that they were all furnished. Not all of them were in use- in fact, all of them were dusty and dark, except for one, that was just as tidy as Negan’s room. It didn’t seem like a woman was living there. So perhaps a family member?

Feeling adventurous, Carl continues downstairs and wanders through the vast area. The kitchen was fucking glorious, but it didn’t seem like Negan used it often. The fridge was nearly empty except for a jug of a thick juice. Dipping his finger into the neck, he licks it. Tomato juice. He hadn’t realized how dehydrated he was until he saw the sink. With a shaking hand, he opens each individual cupboard and locates the one holding a dozen mugs. He drinks the water from the faucet, gulping it down to quench his thirst. There was a display cabinet in the kitchen with tall pitchers filled with some kinds of alcohol. Carl feels sick so he turns away quickly.

The living room had large windows against one entire wall, but they were hidden by the thick curtains that hanged over it. Carl forgets to check behind them because he gets distracted by the bat above the fireplace.

It was a fine object that seemed to be carefully cared for. There were cuts on the sides and chunks missing at the head, but otherwise, it seemed to be nicely retained. Carl guesses that this was an artifact from Negan’s youth; he probably played in the little league or something. He snickers at the thought of a younger, beardless Negan wearing a uniform and practicing with others. He seemed like the rebellious type in high school so Carl finds it hard to believe the man was ever in a team.

Suddenly aware of the cold, Carl shivers. He glares that the couch which did not seem as compelling to lay in, now that he was fully awake and coherent. He remembers the large bed in the man’s private chamber. Without a second thought, Carl heads for the master bedroom. When he gets there, he kicks the towel away from the drawer and partially under the chaise at the foot of the bed. The initial touch of the comforter makes Carl jerk his hand away; it was extremely fluffy and smooth.

With a small nervous giggle, Carl thinks how amusing it was that Negan lived so sparsely but owned such an extravagant bed. He pushes his fingers back into it and kneads the heel of his hand down. The entire bed was white with blue trimmings and Carl liked the homely feel. He slips under the sheets and crawls to the very center. Curling up and gathering a few plush pillows under his head, he feels content and comfy- like he’s in heaven.

His first thought of resting for a few minutes turns into a few hours.

He wakes up only one time as he sleeps. Dazed, yet comfortable and languished, he turns his head to see what had roused him. A mound next to him moves in its sleep. It takes him a minute to realize that at some point, when he was long dead to the world, Negan must have joined him in the bed. For some reason, it doesn’t bother him. In fact, he sneaks closer to the new heat source and tucks himself over the arm that was stretched out on the pillows. Negan probably wouldn’t mind.

Rain was still pattering on the roof; he could still hear its soothing sounds. Carl’s nose was chilly so he nudges it into the man’s chest, which earned him a small groan. It wasn’t long before the quiet drumming lulled him back into sleep.

The next time he stirs, it is caused by the overwhelming scent of bacon and toast that breezes in through the open door. No more sickness. Yay. At first, Carl is unaware of the time that has passed and thinks it is still early morning; the windows were still concealed by the draping curtains, but upon further scrutiny, he sees that they were pulled back to reveal an amazing view of the skylights. They were above ground level. It wasn’t a house after all. And when had it gotten so dark?

He fumbles under the sheets, realizing that the part of the bed nearest to the door was still partially warm with the sheets pulled back. Negan must have left to cook something to eat. Somehow, the thought of being alone scared him and he quickly gets up. There was a robe left on the edge of the bed that he slips into and then proceeds to make his way downstairs.

“Is the bed cushy?” Negan calls out to Carl, smirking at him from the kitchen. He was wielding a pan of steaming scrambled eggs and was wearing an apron casually. His natural hair now almost in curls on his head. The boy thinks that he looks really good in that manner.

Carl rolls his eyes. “Yes it is,” he replies, deciding to humor the man. Carl looks over at the living room windows and sees that they, too, are exposed to the glittering lights of the city which causes him to frown slightly. “You didn’t tell me you lived in an apartment.”

Negan looks surprised. “I don’t.”

“You live in an upstairs room. It’s gotta be like an apartment or something. I thought we were on ground level.”

“You didn’t look out the windows earlier?” Negan asked slyly, nodding at the now, very open, picturesque windows that showcased a broad expanse of night.

Carl feels hot. The man _had_ never actually _said_ it was a house. “I forgot to.”

Negan laughs at his confession.

“I guess you can call this a condo?” The man returns to whatever was in the other pan, his back now visible for Carl to admire. “I have no fucking clue. I own both floors on the top of this building.”

“Woah,” the boy walks up to the windows and presses his face to the frame, in awe. The rain creates a kaleidoscope of colors on the glass and reflects a nice stripe of color onto the dark floorboards. “ _Two floors?_ How much do you gotta pay for that?”

Negan resumes setting up the plates and stares thoughtfully at the lights outside. “I think it’s about two million a year to keep this place in pristine condition, whenever I feel like coming, that is.”

“ _Shit_!” Carl exclaims, looking back.

“I’m not exactly lacking in cash, kid,” Negan says with a grin. He gestures for Carl to take a seat, which the kid ignores. “If you ever need anything, you can always just ask,” the man adds quietly, his voice sincere.

Carl looks up at him steadily, unsure if the man was being serious or not. But at the soft smile, that could only mean the truth, the brunette blushes and feels his stomach flip.

He answers with a soft, “okay,” which makes Negan nod, pleased.

The chill comes again. “Where are my clothes?” Carl wonders outloud.

“They’re in the dryer right now.”

“Hey,” Carl suddenly says, thinking back to all their meetings, when he was always looking disheveled and tousled. “Why do you never say anything about my clothing?”

Negan turns to him, eyes sparkling. Carl blushes at the sudden attention.

“Hell, kid! You always dress like you’re in the goddamn apocalypse. I think it’s fucking cute! You can dress however the fucking way you want when you’re with me, but I do kinda wanna play dress up one day. You’d be able to choose whatever you want, of course.”

Carl scowls, but his stomach is doing flip flops. Walking back, the bat distracts him again. Carl turns to the man.

“What’s that?” Carl asks, pointing to the bat, still hanging by the side of the fireplace. The man didn’t seem to care that he was asking so many questions.

“ _That_ is my baby, Lucille. Treat her kindly.”

“You named your bat?”

“Yeah, why not?” Negan asked, his eyes sparkling.

Carl shrugged in reply. “Why that name?”

When the man doesn’t answer, Carl glances up. Negan still had a smile on his lips, but his shoulders had fallen, slightly.

“Negan?”

“Lucille was my wife.”

Carl’s jaw dropped. “Oh.”

Of course Negan had a wife; he was in his mid-thirties, maybe forties, but the news still shocked him. There was another emotion that was whirling in him. The way Negan had said it...there was something more to the story- something that obviously hit a sore spot. But the question was eating at Carl, temptation rising to ask the forbidden words. He thinks back to the rumors again. Something about an affair and then the disappearance of an unknown man.

“She’s not dead- just not with me anymore,” Negan says sadly. A wave of gratitude washes over Carl and he mentally thanks Negan for answering the one thing he needed to know. His confession didn’t sound forged. He didn’t seem guilty or mocking.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

A silence settles between them. Carl didn’t even want to breathe. This was the first time he had seen such a vulnerable part of the man.

“Are you hungry or what?” Negan asks, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

Carl is too embarrassed and distressed to make a joke.

“I’m hungry,” he mumbles, picking at the soft material of the robe. He watches as a piece of fluff falls from his fingers and drifts to the floor. Negan serves him french toast, eggs, and bacon. Taking a spoonful of the scrambled mixture, Carl is surprised to find that they tasted unbelievably delicious.

“This is really good!”

Negan smirks. “Breakfast is one of the two things I can cook without burning everything to hell.”

“What’s the other?” Carl questions.

“Spaghetti,” the man snorts.

Carl bites his lip to keep from laughing. Of course, it was the easiest recipe in the book. A man of his size attentively dicing tomatoes and meat? The thought of Negan shifting through recipes and gathering supplies was killing him.

Grumbling, Negan must have seen Carl’s restraint because he groans, “Just get it over with.”

The boy starts laughing, and it was so contagious that Negan soon joined in.

“Yeah yeah. You’re asking a lot of damn questions today. _Meat and sauce. I get it,_ ” he says bitterly, yet still chuckling. Carl had tears in his eyes. They eat in comfortable silence, which was occasionally interrupted with Negan’s colorful descriptions of how his life was back then.

“When I started college, I was hit with a _shitton_ of of debt. So I had to work as much as I could and I rented out this small fucking one-room apartment- it was really shitty- eating only fucking spaghetti and instant ramen for a couple months. I’ve never spent so much time alone, y’know, but I had the time of my life then. You don’t get that kind of excitement when you get to be as old as me. I was young and ready to take on all the shit the world was gonna toss at me. I was _so_ fucking ready.”

With quiet admiration, Carl listened. He could never imagine getting out of his father’s life and working to just get through school, but here was someone who had beat the system. Carl thought that was awesome. He had always just assumed that, based on all the stories people told about the man, Negan was just some drop out bum that got rich from illegal activity. But he was obviously more than that. Shame fills him at his previous misconception of the man. When had he gotten so judgemental? He was no better than the jerks at his school.

“What’re you gonna major in anyways, assuming that you do get into some college?” Negan turns to Carl. His gaze is strong and fierce.

“I probably have to go into business or something like that,” he replies, thinking of his dad’s company and his eventually ascendency.

“Cut the bullshit, Carl. You’re not going to school for anyone,” Negan cuts in, voice punishingly cruel. “You go to fucking college for _you_ . Now think about that question again and answer with what the hell _you_ want.”

It was a good piece of advice for Carl, but he can’t help growing heated at Negan’s rough word choice and harsh tone. He knows how the man speaks and knows he use a commanding attitude- just like how he knows this is just a game- but he lets himself fall into the trap anyways. Frustrated, he says, “Well, I don’t fucking know then.”

“C’mon, _sweetheart_. There must be something you like, something that gets your damn brain spinning and the blood running down to your prick,” Negan probes, pushing the teen.

Feeling his teeth clench, the boy fights the urge to lash out, fingers going unconsciously to his scars.

“Maybe criminal justice,” he bites back, but there is nervousness in his words. He wanted to see Negan’s reaction his prefered major.

Negan’s face was no longer genuine; instead it is now mocking and mean. Carl didn’t like that look at all.

“Ohh, _criminal justice_ , huh? Wanna be in the police force? Fight against evil with justice? Wanna be a _good little soldier_ for humanity? Gonna wear a fancy badge and help people?” He sounds so insulting and the teen knows Negan just wants to see how far he can push him- how far until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

He didn’t try to resist him. Carl feels furious tears well up in his eyes, his hunger fading away and the food sitting like cement in his stomach. “Fuck you,” he snaps, pushing away from the table and standing to move away from the dining room. He chickened out of the game, he knows, but he feels a major blow to his ego. To have Negan insult his future dream stung- more than his father’s neglect. He quickly makes his way to the laundry room, which he had discovered earlier from his digging around, and grabs his dried clothing.

“Stupid- Can’t believe I ever... _son of a bitch_!” Carl slams the lid of the dryer on and feels his arm twitch. He just wanted to be gone. Away from Negan, away from this intimacy; as far away as he could get. He didn’t want to be here where the man would only scorn him and taunt him and consume him with vicious words. Carl didn’t want Negan to get into his head, making him happy in a second and then destroying him in the next. He didn’t let anyone bully him around like this.

As he was stomping to the stairs, he was intercepted by Negan, who was frowning.

“Kid, c’mon, I didn’t mean it.”

Carl pushes past him and heads for the master bedroom. He canters to the room and strips off of the robe quickly. Feeling lame and humiliated, he almost starts crying. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ Since when did Negan’s opinion matter? He shouldn’t have let himself loosen up around the man; it would only ruin him later, and distract him from his goal. _When did he let it happen?_

“Carl, stop that.” Negan rushes over to him and hesitates. “What are you planning to do?” he asks, not quite touching the boy as he watched.

“Leave,” Carl barks, unreasonably emotional. Anything could set him off right now. If Negan made another remark, be it nice or mean, he would probably cry. And then he wouldn’t be able to control his racking sobs. Carl’s breaths were already getting heavier and his head was getting lighter with the repression of unwanted, weak thoughts.

“I was too cruel,” Negan says, suddenly gently, with an aching voice. Carl shuts his eyes painfully together and refuses to look at the man. He continues to change, bringing his hands up to get out of the shirt. But Negan’s big hands grab the ends of the tee and bring it back down with a soft tug. Carl sits down on the bed, still turned away, eyes stinging. The man is cupping the boy’s cheeks, trying to get him to open his eyes, but Carl refuses again. Their movements are quick and painful, deep breaths filling the tense silence.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kept cornering you. I was wrong. No one has the right to make fun of your dreams.” Carl was crying now, tears warm down his face.

“ _What the hell is wrong with you?”_ he hits Negan with a closed fist on the chest. Then he’s barraging Negan with punches. Nothing really happens and Negan wraps his arms around him, letting it all just happen. The tighter he holds Carl, the more of a panicked reaction he gets from the kid, but eventually Carl stops crying and sits against the man, straddling him with a leg over each hip. Negan had fallen onto the chaise and they sat there now, drained. He huffs and rubs at his eyes, the tears having all but dried out in him.

He has to contend to this inner storm of emotion now. There was comfort in him but there was also anger. Negan waits for him to get it all out and waits still. “Are you feeling better?”

Carl nods against Negan’s chest, hair covering his face now. In truth, his body was feeling better but his heart had just become more confused. Is this what manipulation felt like? Or was it something else? His pulse was quick, beating like a drum all throughout his body.

“I think your pursuit is honorable. Shit, I wanted to get into criminal justice when I was your age to. That detective shit is fucking awesome,” Negan says, running a warm hand through Carl’s sweat soaked hair. “I just don’t...I don’t know...that kinda job doesn’t really suit you. I see you making a real difference in the world, commanding a large group of people, with a whole fuck load of power. Getting people pissing in their pants and simultaneously getting them to shoot their load when you pass by. That’s what _I_ see you doing.”

Carl doesn’t answer but Negan’s vision of him cheered him up considerably. It was quite tantalizing all the things he could do. Maybe in another life, he could be something like that. Maybe in a dystopian world, he could have been a dictator of some sort. He inches even closer to the man, until his chest was completely pressed up against Negan’s, letting his head come to a rest in the crook of the man’s neck.

“Maybe a serial killer,” Negan teases, rocking the kid up at the idea. “Hmmm, what do you think of that?”

 _That_ gets Carl to smile. He timidly reaches up with his hands, that were rested on the man’s back, to lightly skim across coarse hair. At Negan’s hum of approval, he lets his hand slide down and pulls at a clump of brown.

“Owww,” the man mumbles, mouth muffled in the boy’s hair. Carl mushed his hands around in the curly hair, reveling in the softness. Before long, he was nearly massaging his head, pushing the parting around and combing it back with his fingers. Negan was smiling against him.

The strained atmosphere between the two seemed to have never existed. There was no challenge when they spoke now.

Carl leans back to take a breather when he sees the guitar again. “You were at the auction,” he says suddenly, remembering how he was supposed to ask about it when he got the chance.

Negan follows his gaze and sees what the kid was looking at. He sighs, in a defeated manner.

“I was,” he admits. “I thought I saw you there. You were with someone else, weren’t you, you cheeky brat?”

Carl squirms uncomfortably.

“You were wearing heels too, right?” Negan pokes him in the side, causing him to let out a yelp of dissent. Carl nods slowly, almost shy at the thought. He doesn’t know how to feel with the knowledge that this man was now informed of his secret.

“You looked good,” Negan continues, with both hands under his pits and shaking him like a baby. Wrinkles form above his eyebrows as he cranes up to look at the brunette. “So good that I wanted to get some honey and rub it all over you and then _lick_ it off.”

“Ewwww,” Carl pushes at the prickly beard that was nosing into his throat. He blushes at the lurid image.

Negan cackles as he tries to put his face into the thin neck. “You like that? Oh _yesss_ , I wanna rub you with whipped cream and kiss it off you. Maybe put a cherry on top of that little pink dick, hmmm?”

The boy giggles as he leans back into Negan. He decides to stop fighting the turmoil in him- for now- clearly aware that he was no longer disgusted by sexual jokes.

The man groans as he stretches out his arms. Yawning, he pats Carl’s hair.

“Still hungry?”

The boy shakes his head. “M’kinda thirsty.”

“Smoothie or milk?”

“Milk.”

Carl follows Negan down the stairs. He sits on the couch and flicks the T.V. on with the sleek remote on the cushion. Without much thought, he randomly flips through the channels and stops at a documentary. It was about the great Barrier Reefs and Carl is instantly captivated by the vivid colors.

“Look at that lil fishy!”

Carl almost falls off the seat in alarm. But he calms himself down (and remembers just who was behind him and that this man wouldn’t hurt him) and reaches up without turning around. His fingers find the rough pickles of scruff of Negan’s beard.

“You actually like my beard, don’t you?” Negan walks around the sectional and hands him a glass of warm milk.

“It’s prickly.”

“I know! But I’m too goddamn lazy to shave.”

Carl snorts. They watch the documentary, sitting not too close nor too far. Occasionally, Carl bumps his leg against Negan’s and the man would give him a light nudge back without looking away, a smile dancing on his lips. When it became too chilly, the brunette brings his feet up and tucks them right by Negan’s legs. With a raised eyebrow, the man turns to the boy and upon realizing the problem, he pushes the cold feet under his thighs. Carl bites his lip to keep from laughing. Rick used to do the same thing.

They fall asleep on the couch. Some time during the night, Carl recognizes the heat of Negan’s arms around him, lifting him off the cold surface and depositing him in a soft bed. He faintly remembers tugging on a stray arm and feeling his toes burn from the sudden warmth. He isn’t certain, but he may have also been mumbling like a drunkard- maybe he said something about his dad? Hopefully, Negan never mentions this to him.

The next morning, Carl is interrupted from his slumber by a knock on the door. He is surprised that the bright sunlight from the glass windows didn’t wake him earlier. Negan is lying by his side, groggily blinking when the door swings open.

Then Dwight is striding in, gaping at them with wide eyes. “What...what are you _doing_?” he asks, staring worriedly Carl, but the kid knows the question isn’t directed at him.

“Heyy,” Negan croaks out lamely, pointing a finger at the man like a gun. “You. Are. _Back_.”

The intentional drag of the words strangely piss off the blonde. Dwight strides up to the side of the bed where Carl was sprawled out. He tears the sheets back, eyes moving fiercely across their tangled limbs and up to their chests. Even though there was no evidence of them having messed around at all, he still points accusingly at Negan.

“You pervert!” Dwight seemed to be on the verge of pulling at his hair. “Carl, _get out of the damn bed right now!_ ”

Unmoving, the boy regards the scene with childlike innocence and sleepiness that seemed to enrage the newcomer even more.

“Dwight, chill the fuck out,” Negan groans. “What’s your problem, dude?”

 _“What’s my problem? What is_ your _problem?”_ Dwight jabs into the air violently with a finger.

Carl looks over in alarm, but Negan only laughs. It was sincere.

“Okay, okay. Don’t worry your panties off, Dwight. Nothing happened.”

“Negan, get out of the bed right now. Or I. Will. Call. The. Police.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” The man all but jumps out from under the covers. “Heard you the first time, you bastard.”

Carl watches in amusement. He hadn’t expected that there was someone who could control Negan like this. From what he saw, he had assumed that Negan’s assertive attitude enabled him to always make the rules. Apparently not. This new information sends a tremor down him. Was Dwight...maybe a lover?

In ten minutes, the three of them were seated on the island of the kitchen; Negan and Carl had showered and brushed their teeth. Dwight was firmly squashed between the boy and the man. He had gotten Negan breakfast, but when it was obviously not enough for all of them, he had cooked them bacon and eggs and toast.

“This looks...nice, Dwight, thanks,” Carl stammers, peering up at him.

Without a word, the blonde gives a curt nod, still glaring at Negan with impeaching eyes.

Negan was also very stiff, thanking Dwight immediately after the boy. They sit, with a tense silence in the house- the only sound came from the clinking of their forks and cups against porcelain.

After they eat, Dwight follows Carl back into the bedroom and stands outside while he changes. Inside the room the boy is laughing silently, rolling on the bed one last time before pulling on his wrinkled jeans. They smelled nice; this faint smell is the same as Negan’s. Secretly, he keeps Negan’s shirt on and uses his oversized jacket to cover it. He shoves his own shirt into his pocket before heading down again and this time, Dwight gives him a small smile.

Negan insists that he accompany them as Dwight prepares to take him home. The blonde agrees reluctantly, and even allows them to sit together, under his watchful eyes in the rearview mirror. Dwight drives in awkward silence. Carl thought that perhaps he was staring at them so he tries to keep his eyes down. He wanted to say something to Negan. Maybe thank him for a good night’s sleep or for not taking advantage of him or for cooking for him or for listening to him or for accepting him, but he stays silent instead.

They arrive at his house too soon.

Carl sits mutely, working up the courage to say something, anything. Negan clears his throat when Carl still hasn’t moved. “Thanks for keeping me company, kid.”

“I’m still mad at you,” he blurts out.

Negan smiles. “Of course you are.”

“We’re still enemies.”

“If that’s what you want.”

Carl almost smiles. In his heart, he knew, he had already forgiven Negan. He was at a total cognitive dissonance with his heart and for some reason, he was okay with it.

He gets ready to go, but a lingering thought settles in his mind. Carl stops himself with a hand lightly resting against the handle. He considers it and then decides to swallow his pride, despite being sure that Negan couldn’t give him a definite answer. “Hey, two nights ago, I told you about my mom. Should I...do you...think I should forgive her?”

Negan gives him a steady look. “Carl, I think the only person with the real answer to that is you.” Carl feels his stomach lurch. Negan was answering seriously?

“Don’t let anyone mess up how you’re feeling and what you’re thinking. Personally- what she did was kinda shitty, but she’s still your momma. Even though my momma beat the shit outta me, I still forgave her later on. I’m not saying it’s gonna be easy- hell it took me two decades- but blood is blood and I think it was right to let her go.”

Carl blinks. That...was actually another really good piece of advice; he had expected that Negan would just tell him to make up his own mind. He swallows again and nods, now unsure if he asked the question to hear an answer he had known or if he simply wanted a reason to hear the man’s voice again. He breathlessly mumbles a thanks to Dwight and then gets out of the car. He waves a bit as they leave and then turns to his house. He notices that Dwight doesn’t pull out of his neighborhood until he enters the house.

The first thing he does is make sure to text his dad. Then he switches out of his jacket for another warmer one. There was an unusual claustrophobic feeling eating away at him. After the last few days with Negan, and in constant proximity with another person, this loneliness now left a hollow pit in him. He didn’t want to be alone.

Carl felt clean from the shower earlier and he was feeling energetic from the hearty breakfast. So he immediately gets out of there, wrenching his bike down from its pedestal and pedaling out of the house.

He spends the entire day roaming around. He bikes downtown to his father’s company building and glares up at the bright gleam of the glass. It was a pretty looking thing with mirrors all along the side and shimmering light reflections all around. His father was still somewhere in there, crowded with a dozen people every minute and stressing for the business. It wasn’t sane at all. Carl wanted his dad to be happy and healthy. He wanted so much and everything all at once, but what he did was never enough. Rick only continued to suffer for the sake of money and others.

His mind starts to wander as he rides closer to downtown.

Negan- such a subject for wonder. He was one of the strangest people Carl knew. There was so much intelligence in him; he wasn’t just an empty skull that Carl had guessed upon their first meeting. Negan seemed like he only had a handful of words in his vocabulary and his actions had been so crude, but the more he spent time with him, the more Carl learned how wrong he was. He had never been so prejudiced towards someone.

Instead of chiding himself for thinking of Negan again, Carl focuses on all the meeting between them. He had probably seen on about 5 separate different occasions now. Why had he never seen him around before? Maybe he had just moved into the area? _Whenever I feel like coming,_ Negan had said. Does that mean he was here on a time limit? Would he have to leave one day?

Part of him knew it was ridiculous to care so much, but he couldn't help it. The looks that Negan gave him and the remembrance of his arms around him were consuming his thoughts. He felt like a man that had been pushed off a building and balanced on a tightrope.

Did Negan think about him as much as he did?

For once, the worry that was causing his anxious state didn’t make him want to tear his skin off. He was just...content with the question drifting around in his head. There wasn’t anything he could do anyways. He could just cling onto that hope that Negan was perhaps thinking of him- at least, he liked to pretend that the man did.

Carl rides to the central park and hops off his bike. He takes some time to walk, staying in motion as he thinks. There was something about the day and this restless nature of him that always kept him up and around. Maybe that was the reason why he would always walk. Feeling the breeze rush by his ears and familiar shake of his feet hitting the ground always found a way to lure him into a mulling state.

He eventually remembers the conversation about Negan’s previous wife. He was going to look into their story. Even with his limited knowledge of the man, Carl could already guess that infidelity played a huge role in their dysfunctional relationship. Negan just didn’t seem like that good of a man, especially with his reputation as a womanizer. Lucille must have been devastated, or maybe she had expected the outcome.

Carl can’t understand this new feeling.

He knew all about his father and mother. They were gentle people with giant flaws that went against each other and destroyed any source of love that existed between them. Lori had been caring, but neglectful. His father had valued his career more than his own family. Carl knew this and he also knew that it had been extremely hard when they fell apart.

He was constantly left to his own devices and during that time, he grew cold. He learned to ‘survive’ in a world without his parents. That void in him was filled temporarily by the sex and the lavish parties and the gifts. He, like his mother, turned to other men for comfort, basking in their materialistic gains and letting them take pieces of his youth away. But sooner or later, he would always need another fix.

No drug was ever strong enough. No person was ever enough to cause a shred of him to care; they only ate away at him. He had spent so long perfecting his techniques and preparing himself for any man, that most of his trust and identity were striped away.

He never thought that within just a few months, one man, a single ant in the world, was capable of changing his entirety and pushing the fragments of himself back together again. He did the one thing Humpty Dumpty was never capable of. Negan looked at him with something much more than the lifeless, lustful, pitying eyes of the others. He had expected superficial emotions, like every other snake that tried to bait him. Instead, Carl saw in them, humor and compassion and honesty and tenderness. And suddenly it all feels too much.

When Carl decides to leave the park, the sun is dipping low. He pedals out of downtown quickly.

The feeling, that first manifested during their talk about Lucille, plagued him all the way home. It was a compilation of things that he could not name. When he rounded the corner, he kicked off the bike and left it sprawled on the driveway. He abandoned his shoes and backpack at the bottom of the stairs and ran up to his room, where all his comfort waited. When he got inside, he jumped onto his bed, crawled to the window, and stuck his head out.

The sun was almost gone.

Carl glares at the growing darkness of the street, feeling sentimental and conflicted all at once. His eyes feel hot and his ears are buzzing. He remembers one time in the serene italian countryside, sitting by his mother as they watched the dancers. It had been a hot day so the night’s coolness had refreshed him. Paul was dancing, right in front of him, body twisting to the upbeat song. He had his arms around a girl as he moved. She was up against him too and Carl couldn’t bring his eyes away no matter how hard he tried.

He felt like he was betrayed in one sense or another despite not having bedded Paul or made his attraction clear. He had felt like he was on the edge of a cliff, waiting for someone to save him, yet knowing that no one would come. It was a beautiful night then. It was a beautiful night now.

And realization hits him like a brick.

Oh...it was jealousy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright alright y'all! Next chapter concludes part 1 of this story!  
> ٩(●˙▿˙●)۶…⋆ฺ  
> Special Negan POV in the next one. Stay tuned my loves!


	5. The Greedy, The People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan's POV for the last four chapters. Conclusion to the first part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! I know I said I was going to update every two weeks or so, but things got out of hand and I had to take a break. I'm sorry!! College decisions came out and this year sucked ass. I didn't get into my dream school and I had to balance my 6 AP courses- which sucked ass.   
> (๑ ˊ͈ ᐞ ˋ͈ )ƅ̋  
> This chapter is really long so I hope it can make up for the time I was away.   
> This is the end of the first part, but there is more to come! I'm sure you guys are gonna like the next one because we get more action between the two sexy guys and they go somewhere wild for "vacation."

“It's always times like these when I think of you and I wonder if you ever think of me.” 

― Vanessa Carlton

 

* * *

 

The first time he saw the kid was on a late summer day. 

Negan saw him exactly three times the first day he moved into his new complex. Dwight was sitting in the same car with him, reading off the list of companies that were weak enough to tackle. He was barely paying any attention, occupied with the turmoil in his mind. There was someone he really wanted to meet after such a long time away: Rick Grimes. 

They had actually met more than a decade before, when the other man had just fathered a baby boy and was making his way up as a corporate leader. Rick hated him instantly and Negan was left feeling both amused and interested in the other man. Rick was something entirely different, and it wasn’t just his hotness. His strength, compassion, and honesty surprised Negan and drew out a flame that he never thought existed in him until Rick had brought it to life. He liked that the man was born into a poor family, like him, but continuously fought to secure a better future for his son and beautiful wife.  

He wanted a piece of what was going on in that guy’s head, but before he had the chance to do so, a job offer lured him to New York. Negan said his goodbyes to Simon and took Lucille with him, still deeply in love with her at the time. He married her in his first year of college, about four years after having met her in high school. Negan had pursued her all through his high school years, bewitched by her self-control and resistance towards him. She took away the evil aspects of him- at least in the beginning. Later on, in the big city, his gluttony and wayward attitude plunged him into the sights of younger, frisky women. 

He hadn’t thought about Lucille’s feelings, but he swore he never meant to do what he did to her. He was lonely and stressed from work. Their youth and candidness worked like a balm; he was flattered by their interest. The only argument he had for his actions was, “why not?”

Predictably, Lucille grew angry and resentful, and it wasn’t very long before their marriage began to deteriorate. Dwight helped a lot, especially those nights when Negan wasn’t welcomed to go back home. The blonde had always been there, supporting him and standing by him. Through high school, the pair were inseparable, doing everything together. It was no surprise that when Negan received a position in a high standing firm, he got a position for his best friend too. 

He’d never forget that one time when a furious, jealous ex of one of the girls he had been dating attacked him with a burning iron rod. Dwight had stepped in front of the hot metal to shield Negan and ended up with a disfigured face. Negan had never cried so much about anything. When he was staying in the hospital, Negan had even hand-fed Dwight when he had no strength to do it himself.

Dwight married soon after he was released from the hospital, to a beautiful brunette who he had met at graduate school; this chick called Sharon. When Negan had met her, he had flirted with her and nicknamed her, Sherry. 

He didn’t start their affair until some years after. 

She wanted him, he was into her, and he also wanted to see if Dwight was really the wingman that he had promised when they were young. They drifted apart after Sherry told Dwight what had happened, but it wasn’t long before they reconciled. He hated himself for the months they were apart, wondering to God why he was such a twisted man. Dwight remained by his side to this day and, for that, Negan loves him. 

His liaison with Sherry was also the straw that broke the camel’s back. Lucille was finally pushed to her limit and she cheated on him. It was the biggest blow (to his heart) that someone ever inflicted on him. How could he have not realized that he was pushing her so far away? He never got to ask her if she did it simply to spite him, or if she was just so neglected that she needed comfort, because in the end, only a horrible rage filled him. 

The only reason why he didn’t end up in prison was because the guy was still breathing and Lucille convinced him to not press charges. Negan couldn’t even look at her, despite the fact that he was the one who had slept around more. 

He was a hypocrite, a liar, and the worst friend ever. The divorce was filed quickly, and she left quietly. Negan spent the next six years working to forget, having vulgar sex with anything that moved, and accepting drugs when they were offered. Dwight came back to him, but even he couldn’t change Negan’s bad habits. New York ruined a part of him, made him into a ravaging monster that preyed on the weak and lusted after artificial love. If it wasn’t for phone call about his beloved, ill boss, Negan wouldn’t have made it ‘till now. 

Having no father in his life growing up, this boss was a father figure to him. He had met the man as a young entrepreneur. Negan caught his eye immediately, as he was handsome and young and bold. This man offered him the job of a lifetime. Negan owed everything to him and when he heard about the boss’s impending death, he quit his job in the New York headquarters and returned to the small town where the company began. 

In the old Sanctuary Enterprises manor, when he saw his old boss again, the strong memories of all the immoral things he had done flooded back to him. He cried and cried, like a child, as he embraced the man. He was rueful and regretted that he let himself drift so far away; there was so much he needed to pay for, and he didn’t know where to start. Negan held onto the hand of his old boss as if it were his lifeline and listened carefully to the man’s order for a change in his position.

He would no longer be Mr. Negan, the chairman; he was now Mr. Negan, the CEO. 

It was the greatest breakthrough for him, and it made him snivel again. His boss laughed at him but kindly entrusted the senior badge to him. They shared a meaningfully look before Negan was ushered out. 

When the man passed, Negan was by his side. Dwight was waiting right outside for him, as well. 

He settled into his new promoted seat with grace and confidence. People started liking him again though he was painfully aware of the rumors that had spread about him while he was still in the big city. They were obscene and offensive, detailing crimes that he never even committed. Even with the rumors floating around him, his bustling personality and quick wit attracted men and women like bees to honey. Money flowed in fast, and it didn’t take long before he upgraded to a new place. The night before moving to the new building, he celebrated. 

He met Amber by chance at a party for one of his higher ranking clients. She was a pretty little thing, and he approached her, not really considering the possibility that she wasn’t interested him in. Whatever she had had in mind, it didn’t matter, because at the end of the night, she accepted his proposal easily.

The next day, he met the one and only, Carl Grimes. 

Back to the point- Negan ended up meeting the kid three times in the first day. The first time was while he’s on the car to his new condo. He tuned out what Dwight had been saying- something about a meeting- and turned to the window when he was suddenly spooked by a bike that skidded to a halt right outside. His eyes trialed up long pale legs to a pair of dreadful green shorts. He blinked at the hideous color and looked up to see who the hell the owner was. The kid biking around was strikingly pretty and very familiar, but he didn’t get another glance because his driver moved on. 

The second time was when he was getting lunch. Negan was sitting at the window counter of the the small sandwich shop, swinging his feet. After a particularly large bite, he looked up only to see the same boy with an even more familiar man.

And  _ oh my god _ ! It was  _ Rick  _ fucking _ Grimes _ ! 

Negan paused with the sandwich in the air. He choked on the food going down his throat. Rick was sitting at a two persons’ table with the kid. They were smiling at each other in the same way, with the same expression on their faces. The only unpleasant thing about the way they were interacting was the boy’s clenched fists underneath the table. Negan studied them closer. The boy was no longer in his nasty outfit but in a rather fitted slim suit. Negan’s first thought was that Rick was in a romantic relationship with the kid, but as he observed longer, he realized -with a start- that the brunette was probably Rick’s kid. 

How did that squirming snot faced baby turn into such a beautiful boy? 

Negan didn’t really care about the genetic play in all this; all he really knew was that Rick was no longer such a big prospect in light to his baby boy. He gave a call to Dwight and told him to look into the family he was not-so-subtly staring at. He got out of the place before any alarmed citizen decided to call the cops on him for his blatant unnerving giggling. 

The third time they “meet” was when he’s starting to get home. It had been a very eventful day at work; he had met up with quite some new investors, attended a meeting with Dwight, (though he had slept through most of the important parts- good thing he has Dwight) and decided where to have his next rendezvous with Amber. Negan’s place was in the rowdier side of town, next to the downtown area, so he has to pass through the rampant shopping centers on his way home. It was there that he saw the father-son duo walking into a small tailor shop. 

Nearly had nearly tripped over his feet in surprise and borderline irritation. He supposed that downtown is quite small, and it was a pretty small world, afterall. How could he not expect to see Rick and his baby when it was their town, too? His absence from the place had taken the fact out of his memory. He just hadn’t expected to see them (Carl mostly) so many times on his first formal day back. The kid was checking his phone outside, obviously annoyed as he was frowning. He typed something and then finally smiled when he looked down again. 

Negan found himself mirroring that smile, the second time today, and the second time too many in this entire month. 

He was not supposed to be giggling Negan; he was supposed to be badass Negan, the one that scared the shit out of unsuspecting men and tantalized their wives. He forgot what the Grimes could do to him. If Rick had been single when they’d first met…

It was in the midst of a humid summer night when Negan discovered that he really missed Rick and his stupid ambition. Negan had been eating alone in his empty dining room, at a table big enough for a dozen people, when he was suddenly struck by the memory of  a gentle grin from the other man, about a decade ago. 

Hell- he missed the entire goddamn city. He had truly been away for too long. This small town made him  _ feel _ more than he has in years. It was calmer and slower than busel in the big city and the air was significantly clearer. Simon can do whatever he wanted to make the Sanctuary Enterprises known and famous in the big cities with the big rats, but Negan was content in the old city where company was first founded. He could get used to living like this. 

Some days, his age finally caught up to him in such a knowing city like this. Negan would notice small farmers markets by the side of town and make a note to visit it, thinking about how Dwight liked organic tomato juice. It wouldn’t be until he was lying in bed that he would be shocked by his own thoughts. 

But there was one thing he can’t get off his mind, no matter how he tried to push it away. ‘ _ He’s illegal! Do you wanna go to fucking prison?’,  _ he thought to himself, but it was no use. Negan was helplessly attracted to Carl Grimes, Ricky’s little boy. 

He’s tipped off about the kid’s favors later that week. His immediate reaction was disgust, knowing that there were vile men who were willing to fuck a kid, but he laughed at his hypocrisy. Negan was, after all, not a good person himself. He also finds out that the reason for Carl’s immorality was Rick’s failing business. The Alexandria Corporations had been facing some tough competition, and there was nothing they could do to repay debt and attract investors. He told Dwight to keep him updated about the boy.

Negan had been fully aware of his preference for men and women since the beginning of highschool. His English teacher, Mr. Penalora, was one of the hottest men ever, yet his Math teacher, Mrs. Martin, got his balls tight every time he saw her. He only went to class to watch her talk; he nearly failed the damn class, but she helped him get a solid D before she rounded it up.  _ Sexy and flexible.  _

When he started seeking information about the kid, it didn’t take much effort to unearth his secrets as Negan was already familiar with the Grimes family. 

He laughed when one of his informants had mentioned the boy’s “unusual fashion.” He thought back to the baggy clothes and the awful green shorts he had seen the other day. Apparently, Carl was dressing like a street urchin at school, but shedding those rags for clothes suited for princes whenever he was with his father doing business. He was pretending to be two different people at once and Negan was extremely curious to find out who the real Carl was. This male Cinderella needed to quit his act; Negan disproved of that aspect of the teen very much.

Another thing that really perturbed him was the boy’s obsession with saving his father. He expected Carl to be like any other teen, caught up in life by the new electronics and petty details. Maybe he was worrying about prom or some shit- nope! How wrong he was. The kid was busy exchanging sexual favors for money. His system was deliberate and quick and from what he was told, every deal only lasted for a few days- the longest was a week. The motherfucker was hell bent on saving Rick or some shit. 

He quickly delved into the financial problems with the Alexandria Cooperation, finding out every last detail. So Rick was in a bad place, so apparently he didn’t have a hot wife anymore, so Carl was acting like a street rat at school, so the kid was vulnerable and desperate and frisky. Negan thought about how fun it would be if he could also make a deal with the kid.

About a month after his welcome party, he finally settled down. Life had gotten much quieter and quite mundane so when Negan got an invitation to attend an exclusive party, he reserved a spot so fast he literally dove to the phone. He also saved a spot for Dwight in case the man wanted to accompany him. The blonde was once again rolling his eyes as Negan told him about their next “date”. 

“You should take Amber,” Dwight replied. Negan thought it was a wonderful idea so he decided to call her up. They ate cheesecake after the phone call, relishing the freshness of the ingredients. They even drank Dwight’s nasty tomato juice. The blonde didn’t look too pleased when he mentioned Carl again. 

Negan picked up Amber that night and complimented her and kissed her cheek. She looked so pretty in the nice black dress he bought for her and blushed at his kind words. He made sure to wear a casual outfit because he knew from experience how hot it could get with the people and the drinks. They arrived at a beautiful location in the downtown area. Their party is held on one of the highest stories and situated on a balcony stretched between two towers. He had expected to be bored out of his mind, so he only stayed to keep Amber happy- she liked pretty things. 

At around midnight Negan was finally able to get outside for some air. 

He was craving a cigarette and a shot of whiskey when he noticed a small figure with long brunette hair on the other balcony. It was Carl. 

Snapping to attention, Negan leaned over the stone railing to get a better look. The boy’s face was red as if he had just ran a mile. If he was here, so was his dad, right? Just as Negan was about to do something stupid, he saw another man quickly slam the door and walk over to the kid. Alarm filled him as he realizes how calm Carl was. He was definitely in a defensive stance, but he seemed to be handling the situation just fine. His face twisted with annoyance at whatever the guy said. The next thing Negan knew, the man was trying to hold onto Carl, but the boy wasn’t having any of it. 

A resonating slap echoed over to Negan’s balcony. He was instantly smitten when his shock is confirmed: the crazy little bastard had really smacked the shit outta the man. He was chuckling when he hears the snapping sound of a voice, “No one likes a sore loser, Mr. Blake.” 

By the time Carl has walked back into the party, Negan was gripping his sides with laughter. He needed this boy. He needed this entertainment and life. How fun the game seemed. He was hard,  _ down there, _ and he was almost dripping with need, but he  _ was  _ mindful of the large age gap between them. Negan knew his need was illegal and it could easily end with him in huge trouble, but he also knew that the rules would always bend for him. He was confident in his powers and in his charm. If he couldn’t- and he wouldn’t- get his needs to be met physically, he, at least, wanted the kid by himself. 

The night was over before he knew it and he’s returning to the quieter parts of the city with Amber- only he doesn’t even look at her the whole ride home. He’s too busy remembering the little kid. 

Dwight must have guessed who he had seen the moment he gets through the door because the blonde was on him in a second, growling like a lion. Dwight pointed a finger up at his chin, warning him fiercely. “Do not try anything on him! He’s just a kid.”

Negan backed up immediately. 

“Ok, ok! Goddammit, Dwight! You’re like a momma bear, but he ain’t even your cub!” he laughed, biting his tongue to keep from cussing too much in the blonde’s presence because he knew how much Dwight disliked it. The crease of Dwight’s mouth was already pressed into a thin white line so Negan knew he’s skating on thin ice. 

“You know me, we’ve been together since high school! When have I ever-”

“I’ve also been with you through Lucille,” Dwight interrupted, continuing to speak as if he hadn’t heard Negan’s comment. If it had been anyone else, Negan would have not hesitated to strike at the mention of his ex wife, but it was Dwight and he would never directly harm him. “He’s a boy, Negan. If you hurt him like you hurt her, he won’t recover and I will  _ never  _ forgive you.” His voice was very serious and the man knew better than to argue, but he had to say it- just to make sure.

“But you forgive me for Sherry?” Negan said, watching his friend’s response with sharp eyes. Right away, pain tainted Dwight’s expression, but he nodded not a second later. Negan almost kissed him. There  _ was  _ some sort of love that he felt for this blonde. 

“I love you Dwighty- boy, you slick motherfucker!” Then he added gently, “I would never force him. You know that.” 

Dwight sighed deeply. “I know,” he agreed.

“You really do love kids, don’t you, Dwight?” he asked. The blonde stepped back from his quiet confession and rolled his eyes, walking back to his spot on the couch. 

Negan spent the rest of the night contemplating. 

 

XXXXX

 

The next Wednesday, he headed to the large high school in the wealthier part of town. 

Dwight had been kept busy in the office so Negan got a lucky head start, but he was sure the blonde would come after him in no time. He was practically quivering with excitement and anticipation. He could  _ finally _ pursue the kid- with all the grace he deserved, of course. Negan wasn’t a fan of rushing things. 

His initial idea was to corner the boy at his home but seeing as he was a huge fan of surprises, Negan decided to catch the kid at school. Personally, he loved the attention, and he could afford showing up to a public area so carefreely as he was a fairly new business man. His newly promoted seat was still relatively unknown- not that he gave a shit.

The bewilderment in Carl’s eyes was enough to get him off his rocks, but it also confirmed that the boy really doesn’t know anything about him. He  _ had  _ been a  _ baby  _ when they met and Rick had guarded him, hiding him behind one leg. It wasn’t until later that he realized the kid probably heard some of the notorious rumors about him. It made Negan laugh just thinking about it. 

The more Carl talked back to him, the more hunger he felt. He didn’t get irritated at kid’s refusal as he normally got whenever someone tried to shake him off. Negan wanted to get closer to his fire, but he also wanted the kid to be a little more civil. Carl’s teacher was the first factor that rubbed him in the wrong way. He enjoyed the unblinking eyes on him, and he was so happy to finally meet Carl, but the boy’s sharp tongue quickly struck a nerve. Negan tried his common tactics (bargain, “but-that’s-not-all”, indulgence), but when Carl shut down his attempts, Negan decided to use the cruelest piece of information he had. 

He learned about Paul Rovia from Dwight. After hearing about the whole  _ story _ , irrational jealousy had surged through him. The Grimes had apparently gone on some family trip, and when they were in Italy, Carl had been left to his own devices. Paul was some hot shot teacher who either had the biggest dick to ever walk the earth or perfect brains to have been able to woo the crazy kid. Negan knew how difficult it probably was to catch the boy’s attention, and if this man had been able to, then he must’ve been pretty amazing. To be completely honest, Negan couldn’t stop imagining Carl in the arms of this mystery man, laughing and making love. It tugged in the back of his mind for weeks.

While sprouting his cruel speech like the son-of-a-bitch that he is, Negan hadn’t even realized that Carl began crying. When he heard the soft noises, he was hit with a guilt so powerful nearly all the air in his lungs was knocked out of his chest. He should’ve known that actions had consequences, and this one made him want to punch himself in the gut. 

“You don’t know shit,” Carl had said, crying furious tears. He looked so young and small.

Negan’s heart softened, and for one rare moment, he wished he hadn’t spoken. 

“Oh, damn. Look...holy shit, kid. I’m sorry. It’s easy to forget you’re just a kid. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or anything.” He sighed, always messing things up. He wanted- he had  _ expected- _ Carl to give into his offer. He never considered the possibility that the boy could push his buttons to the point where he grew cold and vexed. “I was just screwing around-”

“Just forget it.”

Negan wanted to say something to lessen the guilt he felt, but someone knocked on the classroom door and interrupted him. “Sir, we need to move your car.”

Carl had rejected him to the end, and it honestly hurt his pride just a bit.

Negan sighed again and gave up for the time being. If he hadn’t brought up Paul, maybe it could have turned out differently. A part of him felt terrible that he had said those words out loud in front of all his classmates, but it had to be done. If he hadn’t mentioned the kid’s ex-lover, Carl wouldn’t have been put in his place. 

When he got down to the front gate, Negan knew there is a possibility that he will not get away alive because Dwight was in the backseat with the foulest expression Negan had ever seen on him. Dwight was the one who sent the driver up about the car. Negan would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared for himself. 

“Dwight, chill out!” he said as he slid into the car. 

“Not until you stop pursuing him!”

Rolling his eyes, Negan groaned. “I will never! I’m hooked now. Can’t you trust me a little? I promised I won’t do any-fucking-thing to him!” 

“Remember Frankie?” Dwight questioned- he had a habit of picking at old scars. Negan flinched. “Took you, what, a month to get bored of her?”

“He’s different,” Negan whined, purposely leaving out the detail of his connection to the Grimes family. He didn’t want Dwight to know about the deeper emotion ties he had with them, and he was sure Dwight wouldn’t even believe his real feelings.

“You sound like a freaking kid.”

“And  _ you _ are in no position to order me around, Dwight!”

“Someone ought to control you!”

Chewing his lips, the blonde grumbled and looked away. Negan usually bantered with him because he had nothing better to do, and it always helped him to create better comebacks. When Dwight gave up and began to ignore him, Negan reflected on his meeting with the boy. He wanted to see Carl again. Though the teen’s riposte was strong, his own stubborn attitude could handle it.  _ He  _ could handle a green teen.

Despite Carl seemingly not knowing anything about him, Negan was sure the boy would do his own digging. In fact, he’d probably know everything there was to know about Negan by the end of the day. He knew that Rick’s son would have contact with specialists that could unearth any information within seconds. He wasn’t the son of one of the most influential businessmen for nothing.

 

XXXXX

 

One weekend, Negan had a day off. He thought it might be a good idea to check out where the Grimes lived. He had the address in his phone for a while now, and it seemed he finally had time to scout it out. It might be a good idea to know where his soon-to-be boy spent his days. Negan was curious to see the neighborhood, but he should’ve guessed that it was full of wealthy, opulent houses. He didn’t want to stand out too much, so he dressed in a casual tee and chose his favorite truck, but he guessed he still looked pretty suspicious, driving around slowly in a creepy black car. He spotted Carl’s street sign and prepared to turn. But in that moment, some fucking dumbass stepped out onto the street and Negan almost ran him down.

His heart almost stopped when he saw who it is. He had almost killed Carl fucking Grimes.

Fighting the urge to laugh, he gripped the boy up and took him to get some ice cream as an apology. Carl didn’t ask why he was in the area, and Negan never mentioned it to him. The kid obviously welcomed the desert because, although he refused the offer to get some, he shoved the ice cream down so fast, there was no way he hadn’t gotten a brain freeze. 

He was pleasantly surprised when Carl started to laugh. They were sitting together in a park, eating ice cream, covered in blood from the open wound on the kid’s leg, but Negan found he quite enjoyed himself. They were together in peace and it was what he had wanted since the first day he saw him. There were butterflies in his stomach, and his hands were sweating more than normal. He wondered if Carl could tell just how nervous he was in such close proximity to the person he desired. Negan tried to keep the conversation rolling as smoothly as he could, but Carl was a quiet kid. 

Sometime later, they got into the topic of the deal. 

“I can’t wait on you forever, baby. Sooner or later I’ll lose my patience and you’ll hate me for what I’m gonna do to you,” Negan said, because it was the truth, and he was sure that one of these days, he’d snap and force Carl to take the deal. It was going to happen, one way or another; it all depended on the timing now- how long his patience could last.

“Are you threatening me?” Carl asked, the gleam of defiance back in his eyes.

“I know you’re still mad at me, but I not the kind of man who would force you to...do shit you don’t want,” the CEO replied, trying to look very serious. The look in Carl’s eyes told him that he believed him.

“I don’t even know you,” Carl whispered. 

“I want you to,” Negan said, feeling giddy at the silence when Carl turned away. There were two red spots on the boy’s cheeks. Carl hadn’t refused him this time. Any victory was satisfactory, and Negan was content for now.

He took Amber out the next week, to an associate’s wedding. All through the reception and the main ceremony, Negan was met with her doe eyes and full lip pouts, making him smile wide. She was very willing that day and had been the one to get down on him when they got to his house. He held her blonde hair as she took him into her mouth. Closing his eyes, Negan focused on the heat of her mouth and tried to make it as comfortable as he could for her. 

Whenever they had sex, it was very slow and sweet. He gave her plenty of time during their foreplay to pull away if she wanted to, but she pushed and he found himself pressed against her chest, shaking with exertion. 

As he moved, he suddenly got an image of a boy in his head. He wasn’t really completely male but more like some hermaphrodite enchantress with merged sex parts. His chest was male, smooth and milky underneath Negan’s calloused hands, but as he moves lower, he was met with dripping slick. He clearly felt the tip of a penis as he kissed the boy on the mouth, not needing to glance down to confirm it. But as he went further down to rub, his finger slipped into the clit of what felt like a vagina. In his haze, Negan didn’t think to look down, but instead carefully caressed him, his fingers finding the opening through the drenched folds. He was captivated by this intersex temptress. 

The boy moaned as Negan pressed a digit in, moving fiercely up to meet him. He took him into wet heat, and Negan groaned at the feeling. When three fingers were curling easily, he was dragged into position. The boy swallowed his length with ease, whimpering and panting. Negan was soon fully seated in it, feeling more pleasure than he had in awhile. His hips slammed down, and he ran his hands everywhere, stroking soft flesh.

The boy began to change form, and the person he’s making love to wasn’t shadowed and translucent anymore. Carl was tangible and sweating and radiating heat, and Negan didn’t know what to think. His face was flushed red, the color extending down his neck to his shoulders. Negan didn’t want to look away from his mesmerizing face. He couldn’t stop moving either despite knowing how wrong the situation was. 

If anything, his thrusts became even more frantic, trying to feel as much as he could. This Carl was more vocal, not like the shy kid he had met along the road. He wrapped his white arms around Negan and his legs around his waist. This Carl was an incubus, in every sense of the word, and Negan couldn’t get enough at all.

His body was flush against the boy, his chest meeting the pliant nipples of the kid. His large hands were able to cover most of the the boy’s waist as he gripped him to steady his quivering hips. Carl was moaning loudly, his low voice trembling with whispered pleas. 

“Fuck me, Negan-  _ ah- _ harder,  _ harder _ .”

Negan’s husky reply was lost in the lewd sounds that filled the room. He shut his eyes harder, unwilling to let the vision slip away. His stomach constricted as he came, a blinding white light behind his closed eyes. He gasped and at the same time, he heard Amber calling for him. 

Guilt flooded him when he realized what he had just done and at the name that he was so close to saying out loud. Amber was lying on the bed, twisted up in the blankets, with a smile on her lips. He cleaned her up and kissed his mess off of her. 

After he tucked her into his bed, he pulled on a pair of dress pants and prepared himself for a dinner later that night. It was relatively early but after their session, he was really craving a beer. 

His third meeting with Carl was completely unplanned, just like the accident with the car. Just seeing the boy made his hands weak and his mouth dry. The way Carl looked at him brought back the memories of what Negan had just done to his imaginary body. Negan needed something sweet to dispel the sour taste in his mouth so he grabbed something random from the candy rack. He liked how bold Carl was when he recommended the toffee, which was indeed very delicious. Negan noted the slight limp and the prominent noches of the kid’s spine. Some softness of heart persuaded him to grab a pack of the most familiar candy- Hubba Bubba gum from his youth- and offered it to Carl. He didn’t want to let his real facade through so he left quickly, with his heart pounding wildly as he got away from those unwavering eyes.

By the next month, Negan couldn’t take it any longer. He was getting desperate and the signs were alarming Dwight. 

One night he had come home, needy and horny. While he was in the damn shower, he started stroking himself like a teenager in rut. In his mind were all the things he could see: Carl’s hair, his light eyes, his fucking skinny arms, and all the things he could touch. When he came, he felt a moment of revelation.

Hoping to distract himself, he took Amber to an auction. He didn’t think he could be troubled here, but he was so wrong- again. While he was in the foyer, waiting to be checked in, he caught a glimpse of someone so similar to his kid. He tried to ignore the glimpse and concentrated on the auction items. He ended up buying a freaking cool guitar from Cobain which was truly a find. He loved Nirvana in middle school, and some days he’d even skip school to listen to their new album in the park. 

As he went to check out his new belonging, he stopped so abruptly he almost lost his grip on his champagne glass. 

Carl was  _ right there _ in front of the guitar. He looked absolutely incredible in a sleek black suit. A flash of pink caught his eye. Negan wasn’t sure at first if it was really Carl who was wearing those lace heels, but when the kid moved, the shoes follow, and in an instant, Negan’s pants are too tight. His jaw drop and he dashed behind the wall separator to hide from Carl’s sharp eyes. He watched as the teen questioned an auctioneer and is preparing to approach when a man steps up to Carl.

Negan glared at the newcomer with growing wrath as he put an arm around Carl’s waist, hands too excited to be casual. They were whispering to each other, and Carl burst into giggles at something he said. Negan was seething with fury when the man kissed Carl lightly, just a peck on the boy’s cheek. Carl should’ve been with him; they could’ve come together! Unable to say anything, he followed them to the door and watched as they got into one of the many sports cars lining the driveway. He drove home with his hand over Amber’s, planning his next move. Dwight was looking into investments and companies as he got home. Carl had to be taught the hard way, it seemed. 

He wanted to put the plan into motion the following Monday, but when he walked into his office, there was something not quite right in the air. Just as he got off the elevator, Dwight pulled him into a quiet lounge area. 

“What’s the matter with everyone today?” Negan asked, surprised.

It took the blonde a second to answer which immediately told Negan that it was something very grave. His first thought was Carl, but Dwight shook his head at his inquiry. 

“It’s...Amber.”

Negan’s shock probably shouldn’t have been unexpected. He had been neglecting her. Despite all those gifts and trips, she probably realized that he was never mentally there. If she had gone to the point of cheating on him, then there was no way to mend their relationship. To him, cheating was one of the worst crimes- he had learned it after the incident with Lucille. 

There were people in the lobby, many who greeted him, but he paid them no attention. His main need was to hear from Amber. She was waiting for him in his private office. When he walked in, she was already crying, knowing the weight of what she had done and that he found out. 

“I’m sorry-” she began, but he shushed her with gentle eyes. 

“It’s okay,” was all he said. 

“I can’t be with someone who gives him no attention. He- he was there for me!”

Negan nodded, but he felt a sadness fill his heart. A tremor ran through him. 

“Look, kid,” he took her hands and sat down beside her. “One day you’ll find yourself a man who really loves you. I can’t have my girls going with other men; it makes me so jealous!” 

She stared at him with wide eyes, not having taken the hint. He nudged her lightly. “Go to him,” he urged. 

“Are we over?” she asked timidly.  

“You betcha, baby!” he boomed, smiling despite the dull ache in him. “Now get outta here, kiddo!” 

He patted her hair softly as she got up and left, feeling the lump grow in his throat. He might never have said it straight out but he did love all his girls. They were soft, sweet things, too fragile for anyone  to ever lay a hand on, and too beautiful to be working like soldiers. There was also another feeling that conflicted with his sorrow- relief, that made him so guilty. He was almost glad that she was out of his life because now he could properly pursue the boy. He retraced his steps and deliberated what he could do now. His misery impassioned his desire for Carl and within the first two hours he had decided on one of the cruelest but fastest way to get the kid to take his deal. 

Dwight had always been the one to challenge him, but when Negan was in this sort of reckless mood, he knew better than to argue. He bought the failing company from Alexandria the next morning, and he smiled like a madman the whole day, knowing he was freaking out Dwight and Simon. News stations exploded with articles after articles about the all- out- war breaking out between the Sanctuary Enterprises and the Alexandria Corporations. Negan had also sent a very special surprise to the Alexandrians, and one kid in  _ particular, _ as a challenge. When Negan left to see the boy, Dwight cornered him in the car. 

“Go easy on him, Negan.”

Of course Negan hadn’t planned to go easy on the kid. He expected Carl to bite back and swear retaliation. He had looked forward to the visit so much, wanting to face the fire, that he was so very surprised when Carl broke down into tears. A small ounce of him felt terrible, but this was what he wanted- submission from a little lion. Negan never claimed to be a good man, after all. 

That night, he called Dwight to wire in the cash. Carl said yes, and Negan wasn’t evil enough to stall the transaction. He had his part to fulfill, too. There was nothing that could describe the way he felt, and he wanted nothing more than to spend as much time as he could with Carl- he can’t. Simon had warned him to stay out of trouble for awhile, as reporters were constantly on his ass, and he couldn’t disobey his second in command. He was aware of how important this time was so he indulged in his work and spent overtime in the office. Negan didn’t forget that he wanted to apologize to kid, but he didn’t exactly have time to see him personally. 

He requested Dwight to go on a secret mission. 

Negan picked out the flowers but left the cheesecake and the visit to Dwight. 

He was lounging on the couch when the blonde returned. The man’s rigid back told him the amount of disapproval the man had garnered. Dwight glared at him when he came into view.

“What is up, my man?” he asked, testing the water with a safe question. 

But his friend snapped, “I’m warning you!” 

Negan physically and mentally shrunk away. “...Now that you’ve met him, what do you think?” he asked timidly. 

Dwight paused at the doorway of his own room, and turned to give him a deadly look. “ _ Way _ too good for you.”

“Aw, man, c’mon!” 

He leaves Negan alone in the room, with the man feeling both amused and excited as ever. He’ll care about consequences later, but for now, he wanted to draw Carl in. 

 

XXXXX

 

When Negan heard of the foolish man, of the small company, who wanted to start a fight with him, he couldn’t resist meeting up with the man. He had never been the type to get out of a fight when the situation called for it, and this time was no different. However, as it turned out, the man was much older than him; Negan felt inclined to speak  _ somewhat _ civilly. 

The guy was deranged, telling him about all kinds of obscenities that the corrupted government was giving money to the illegal businesses of already rich men. Negan didn’t like him whatsoever, especially when the guy started spewing shit about the Sanctuary Enterprizes like he wasn’t sitting with the CEO himself. He tried as hard as he could to stay calm, looking over at Dwight, who was shaking his head, but when the man made a remark about Carl and the propositions the kid took, all his self control went out the door. 

Negan had the bastard on the ground in two seconds. If it wasn’t for Dwight he would have never gotten off him until the man was dead. In his rage, he hadn’t realized the cut that ran down the length of his arm, pouring blood all over them. 

 

XXXXX

 

It had almost been a month since the last time he came into contact with the kid. It was a moody rainy day when he visited the convenience store the teen worked at, deliberately, hoping to catch him there. Dwight was on a trip with a friend of his, so Negan knew this is his chance. What the blonde didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Carl had freaked about his scar which made Negan very curious as to how he knew it was a cut. As far as he had known, everyone believed his excuse. Carl helped him get the beer into the car, and Negan said his goodbyes. He started to walk away, hoping that Carl might call him back. Either way, his exit was freaking cool.

“...you’re gonna make me walk?”   
Negan hadn’t expected the kid to call out to him. His voice was so soft and helpless that Negan couldn’t help but turn around. Doe eyes stared back at him accusingly, and he bit his tongue to stop a laugh that threatened to burst from his lips. He was ecstatic that Carl stopped him, but he had to stay in his character of the cool badass boss.

He asked about the kid’s family and about Paul simply because he wanted to know. He wanted to push the boy a bit, see what he could do to make him uncomfortable, but he also knew his limits. Carl must’ve been upset about his family situation because he started to rant, and Negan, wanting to calm him down, told him his own tragic family life. His momma had been one crazy bitch, but he had loved her all the same. Blood was important. When they got onto the topic of Paul, he felt more vexed than before, but he still felt bad immediately after asking. The idea of Carl being with any other person caused his stomach to twist up unpleasantly. 

Carl also questioned his arm again. Negan wasn’t actually lying. He did get into that fight and the guy did get a good cut at him with a piece of broken glass, but the reasoning behind his tale was false. The quarrel was started only because the guy had spewed trash about Carl. But it wasn’t as if the kid needed to know. 

Negan was hurt when the boy told him the poor fate of the cheesecake and the flowers, but he supposes that it might’ve been hard to accept his gifts. That would hopefully change overtime. 

Negan also supposed it was his fault for getting Carl drunk. He had been probing at the kid’s sore spots and daring him to drink. He had expected Carl to be used to alcohol, but he hadn’t expected the kid to chug half a bottle in ten minutes. So when the kid passed out after vomitting all over his back, Negan dragged him to his house and set him down on the couch. He hurried to shed his jacket in the bathroom, and by the time he got out, Carl was awake and gesturing for him to come over. Negan felt tired and drowsy from the drinks, but he made his way to the boy.

“Hey,” Carl slurred, breath rancid with the smell of wine. Negan could hardly care; he just wanted to kiss him again. The boy’s small white fingers grappled and clung onto the man’s sleeve. He looked so peaceful despite the red flush all down his neck and the man didn’t want to disturb him.

Negan was forced to get down to his knees in order to get to the same level a the kid.  

“Mhm, what do you want, baby?” He brushed the kid’s chocolate hair from his eyes. 

Carl smiled, but after a second though, knit his brows together. “I didn’t actually toss away the cheesecake or the flowers,” he blubbered, suddenly looking like he’s ready to cry. “It was good,” he sputtered, and then he dropped his head against Negan’s shoulder. 

“Right,” Negan said, not sure why the teen’s drunken mind was telling him to disclose that information, but he was glad that the kid actually enjoyed his gift. It seemed Carl was an emotional drunk, kinda cute considering that the little psychopath didn’t usually show so much of his true sentiments. 

Negan took a shower and roughly pulled on a tee and a pair of sweats. When he stepped out again, Carl woke with a jolt. 

“Why didn’t you come visit me, you jerk? I was fucking waiting!” he snapped before starting to doze, a trail of spit running down his chin. 

“You’re still awake?” Negan asked, quite surprised. He moved around the couch and reached out to wipe away the spittle but is pulled down hard. “What the-?” 

Carl wrapped an arm around his arm and refused to let go. Negan gave up after a few minutes of trying to tug out of his grasp and sat down beside him. He jerked back slightly, when a hiccup comes from Carl, thinking that the kid was gonna hurl again. He laughed quietly to himself when Carl didn’t and inches closer to the warm body.

The next morning, Carl, feeling the after effect of his drinking, had his little fit. Negan felt pain in his muscles as they creaked and stretched from his night on the small surface. He remembered that the kid couldn’t actually stay over for too long; Rick would probably bust a nut worrying so he told the teen to make a call and left his phone on drawer of the master bedroom. His trip to the market wasn’t just an excuse to give the boy some privacy in his unfamiliar house- there was really not a scrap of food in the house. Two men living together meant binge eating at one in the morning and midnight snacks with beer.

When he thought he’d given ample time for Carl to shower and make himself comfortable, he headed back, all the while hoping that the boy hadn’t left. It was still early in the morning so he knew there is a chance that Carl had found his way home or his father had directed him to come home.

Negan walked into the house, and the first thing he noticed was the quiet. It was rarely ever completely quiet- he and Dwight liked to keep soft music on at all times- and he nervously looked around. Carl hadn’t actually left right? And then he saw the water puddles and droplets that were left around the house. He saw water at the base of the fireplace, where Lucille was. There were also lines of water trailing through the rooms. 

The man smiled. Carl must have explored. He first set down his groceries and then proceeded to wash Carl’s clothes, which the teen had just left laying on the bathroom floor (fucking kids these days). The last trail he followed led him upstairs to the master bedroom.

He found the boy curled up in a center of his colossal bed, with the sheets bunched up all around him like a cocoon.

If Rick had objected to the kid staying overnight, he would’ve been long gone.

With a start, Negan realized that Carl was wearing one of his shirts. He had seen the towel on the ground and the open shelf. He tiptoed slowly to the side of the bed and perked at the edge. He used gentle hands to push back Carl’s hair, but he froze when he looked down at the dangling arm spread out over the sheets. 

His fingers brushed against the atrocious red marks. Some of the wounds were still fresh and throbbing under his fingertips. Was Carl employing self-harming? Why would he? Had Negan caused any of it? Worry stabbed at him, and imaginary pain ran through his own limbs. The marks stood in stark contrast to the milky porcelain of Carl’s body. Negan ran a finger down them and flinched when the kid murmured something. 

He felt helplessness accompanied by anger. He didn’t like self- harm whatsoever, and he especially hated seeing them on the person he adored. 

Wanting to rid him self of his turbulent emotions, Negan took another cold shower and instantly regretted it  when he stepped out into the freezing air. He contemplated going to Dwight’s room, but another small sound from Carl drew him closer. He slid under the covers but kept his distance in case Carl awoke and panicked. It wasn’t long before he falls asleep.

 

XXXXX   
  


Negan woke to darkness. 

It was late in the evening, and he forgot, for a moment, how he got here. However, the heat pressed against his chest reminded him of Carl and the events that occured the night before. He nuzzled into warm skin, having forgotten how warm kids were. The last time he held a child- well, actually- he couldn’t remember the last time he embraced someone like this. He hugged his girls all the time, but never with the amount of real emotion like this. Maybe with Lucille? He couldn’t remember anymore. 

Maybe he didn’t want to- she was history, after all.

Carl made a low sound in his throat. It was almost like a growl, feral and untamed, which sent a shiver down his side. 

He wanted to stay in the bed and waste away, but his stomach rumbled and he knew he needed to make something for the two of them. He savored the moment for a second longer and pulled himself up, quietly as to not wake Carl. He left a fluffy robe on the bed so that the kid could use it when he woke.

He was almost finished cooking breakfast when he heard the demure steps coming down the stairs.

Without looking up, he asked, “Was the bed cushy?” 

Negan almost squealed at the disoriented look on the boy’s face when he answered and asked questions of his own. His brown hair was a bird’s nest and his tee was hanging in an odd way across his slim shoulders. Negan loved the domesticality of the situation.

There was something about Carl’s wandering eyes that just drove Negan crazy.

When the kid asked him about Lucille’s origin, all the warm happiness evaporated. His heart grew cold and for a moment he was back in the bedroom in their previous abode. He remembered the ringing in his ears and the blood on his hands. She was crying. 

“Negan?”

He couldn’t -maybe he didn’t want to- lie. “Lucille was my wife.”

At Carl’s surprise, Negan guessed that he hasn’t been told about their split. The boy quickly changed the subject, and he chose to not dwell on the painful memories.

Sometimes Negan immersed himself into his speeches, especially if it was a subject he felt strongly for. So when he asked Carl about college, he should’ve been more careful.

“Ohh, _ criminal justice _ , huh? Wanna be in the police force? Fight against evil with justice? Wanna be a  _ good little soldier _ for humanity? Gonna wear a fancy badge and help people?” Somehow the words tasted stale on his tongue. In the back of his mind, he knew that he was pushing Carl’s boundaries. But none of the professions suited Carl. Negan could only see Carl as an influential member in the world- a scary motherfucker who could scare the shit out of men and bring the world to its knees.

Negan didn’t want to contain the fire; he wanted to untethered the storm in Carl. 

When Carl snapped at him, Negan knew he was wrong. He was utterly helpless to those tears that welled up in his eyes. He sat there for a moment, tormented and upset at himself for being so crude.  _ What the hell is wrong with me? _ As Carl was stomping to the stairs, Negan intercepted him. 

“Kid, c’mon, I didn’t mean it.” But the boy pushed right past him and practically flew up the steps. 

He followed the kid to the bedroom and stood frowning as he saw what Carl was wanting to do. 

He’s striping quickly, but Negan couldn’t watch him leave like that. Feeling worried, he stepped up to Carl and tried to end his apparent distress. 

“Carl, stop that.” Negan hesitated, but when Carl made it clear what he was planning to do, Negan couldn’t stand by. 

“I was too cruel,” Negan said, voice weak, not even trying to hide his begging. Carl shut his eyes refused to look at him. So Negan took ends of the tee and pulled it back down. His motions were fast and abrupt. He couldn’t just let the kid walk away in this state. He wanted to spend some quality time with him, but he had ruined their happiness with his fucking mouth. He regretted it with all his heart. When Carl started crying, Negan felt smaller than he has in years. Remorse made his eyes damp. 

“ _ What the hell is wrong with you?”  _ Carl had said, hitting Negan on the chest with firm punches. Negan just sat there, waiting for his fit to be over. Negan wrapped his arms around him, trying to soothe the boy’s anger. It eventually calms Carl down. 

Carl sat in his lap, with his arms limp around his neck. When Negan mentioned his own vision for kid, it made Carl smile.

The kid soon grew restless, the man could tell, because he started to play with Negan’s hair. This act of intimacy made him start smiling too.

Carl asked him about the auction when he saw the guitar and Negan didn’t lie to him about it. He grew slightly irritated when he remembered who Carl went with but is immediately pacified when he got the kid blushing and squirming with his fantasies. He chased after Carl with his lips and pressed his chin into his smooth neck. He was pleased to see that Carl no longer pulled away in disgust at his sexual jokes. 

They spent the rest of the night in relative ease. 

Carl chose to watch a documentary, but Negan hardly paid it much attention because he was so captivated by the little body beside him. They played and poked at each other, without constraint, and Negan knew he had found a new favorite pastime. A chill brought the brunette’s feet up and under Negan’s legs. Raising an eyebrow, the man turned to the boy and tried to help warm him up. Carl somehow looked like he wanted to laugh. 

They fell asleep in the middle of the couch. Negan woke to the cold and carried the boy up the stairs and into his bed. Carl was mumbling something about his dad and asked Negan to spoon him “the way he did when he was a kid.” The boy must’ve mistaken him for his dad. With great tenderness, Negan kissed the side of his face and cupped a warm hand under Carl’s freezing cheeks. He fell asleep watching Carl blow a strand of hair up and down and listening to his breaths like a metronome. 

In the busy night, Negan forgot that Dwight was coming home the next morning. So when he was rudely awakened, cold sweat dotted his forehead and arms. The blonde might have overreacted, but Negan couldn’t stop him when he was this riled up. Negan needed to talk to him privately. 

He and Carl take showers and eat breakfast, but it was soon time for the kid to leave. 

He wanted to say so much more in the car, but the words got stuck. They arrived too soon, and then Carl was asking him a question. Astonishment flooded him with delight. Dwight later- after scolding him thoroughly- grudgingly admitted that he gave good advice however much he was against their time together. They parted ways softly and Negan spent the whole day at work giddly and daydreaming. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about their last two days together. It felt like a damn dream and he felt like he was going to wake up, disappointed, but even the threat of that wasn’t enough to disturb his good mood. 

Did Carl think about him as much as he thought of him?

He hoped so; he never wished for something so much.

The next two week passed in the same manner with his thoughts constantly roaming back to the kid.

One afternoon, Dwight comes into the office with a folder and a dead expression. 

“Negan, you’re expected to go to the Vegas gala event,” he deadpanned. The CEO supposed that the blonde was both annoyed at his consistent dreamy state and tired from all the work he had to make up since Negan wasn’t properly working. 

Sighing, Negan pushes away from the table and twists himself around in circles in the rolling chair. 

“Okay, Dwighty, see what we can do about it. You’ll have to come with me, as always.”

The blonde nods, obediently jotting down their plans. “So you want to get a luxury suite?” 

“You know me- only the best of the best.”

“Since high school.” 

The two smile at each other- Dwight’s is more strained.

“This is a good opportunity to relax. We’ve been busy since the moment you decided to move,” Dwight comments. 

Suddenly a thought enters Negan’s mind. Carl. He must need some relaxation, too. The image of his scars sent a wave of anger and concern through him. 

“Dwight?” he calls. 

“What is it?”

“Reserve a bigger room. We’ll be going with a special guest.”

The blonde raises an eyebrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might take a longer time to update the next one, but I will get it done! Now I have to prepare for AP testing and prom!!   
> (๑ ˊ͈ ᐞ ˋ͈ )ƅ̋  
> At least the boys will head to Vegas soon!


End file.
